


The Golden Queen

by S_EER (Fritiriel)



Series: The Golden Queen [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - McCaffrey, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Dragons, Drama, First Time, Golden Queen Series, M/M, Novel, Pern, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-26
Updated: 2008-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:00:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritiriel/pseuds/S_EER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And, of course, a truthful reply to a visitor's conventionally polite, 'You are awake early - couldn't sleep?' would be impossible.</p><p>'My queen is restless because she's about to rise, and I am somewhat concerned about my imminent rape…' definitely did not count as acceptable table conversation at any time of day.</p><p><b>NB: Not</b> non-con</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Golden Queen

**Author's Note:**

> The Golden Queen series borrows Pern as a setting but is not Pern fanfic as such; purists please note that it may well contain canon errors!
> 
> Other readers may welcome the **Handy Glossary** of unfamiliar concepts and terms, which may be found at the end of the first chapter. There is a complete list of characters at the end of the second.
> 
> The glorious banner was a gift from the multi-talented and wonderfully generous Annwyn, whose works are also hosted here. Thank you again, dear!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _... and wondered again just why this queen, Frideth alone of all others in their history, should have been Impressed by a male..._

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v603/seerslair/?action=view&current=the_golden_queen_banner.jpg)

 

Sammath roused him, urgently.

They were aloft before he was even half awake, the last shreds of sleep ripped from him by the frozen void of _between_. He shivered, jacket barely clutched around his shoulders as they burst from its black grasp, so high above Telgar Weyr that the watchdragon was as yet unaware of their presence.

Cold light showed the feeding grounds far below, empty of dragons now, the grazing herdbeasts mere dots with longer shadows on a moon-whitened field. Sea'n could make out an occasional sleeping mound on its weyr-ledge in the sides of the Bowl, but most were abed inside. Riders and weyrfolk alike were bound fast in sleep, only the bakers about as yet, the lower caverns lit by many glows and the lick of flame as fires were stoked to heat the ovens while the yeast worked its everyday magic. As Sammath descended, Sea'n knew they would catch the acrid smoke of burning blackrock, with a hint of fresh klah at its heels.

A quiet morning.

_What are we doing here, Sammath? Why did you drag me from sleep in the middle of the night, when—_

It will be soon, Sea'n!

What will b—? But Sammath showed him.

A golden queen appeared within his mind, sleekly gilded by the morning sun, sculpted perfection in every line. Her wings spread high and wide against the light, edges fretted like the finest lace, main sails sweeping powerfully down; only the slightest of hesitations betrayed a confusion in her mind. A maiden flight then, Sea'n thought, as she flew to the killing grounds - gliding, swooping, plunging down amongst the herdbeasts to snatch up her choice.

A defiant snarl, and Sea'n realized that she was no longer alone. Where the queen had come to rest, poised to eat her fill, a slim figure stood suddenly, rigid with the effort of control. The queen was strong and resentful of the curb, her head weaving, tongue lashing the air. To no avail. However angrily she fought, her rider was the stronger. Submitting to an iron will, she bent with an angry hiss to sink her fangs deep into the beast's throat and suck out its lifeblood for the rush of heat that would ensure a fast flight, long and high.

In the blink of an eye she was aloft again, a second prey caught and blooded, the rider's battle brief this time as the blood coursed hot within the queen and she knew now what more she needed. A third time she struck before the blood-need was sated and a greater called to her. She lifted her muzzle to scent the air and the sun shone full upon her. She glowed, neck arching, tail weaving sinuously around her body; every movement, every gesture displayed her desirability, flaunted her conviction that no male could be worthy of her magnificence.

_Sammath, the queen is wonderful but she is not of our weyr – you cannot fly her when she rises._

She is Frideth, and I must_ fly her._

Frideth? Is she not the queen whose rider is—?

Male. A mate for you, Sea'n.

I have a weyrmate, Sammath, and so have you. We have led Igen with Crista and Allibeth these past seven turns. Even were this an open flight, we should take no part. Think, Sammath! Frideth is the most junior queen at Telgar – we could no longer lead our Weyr against Thread.

That matters not for I shall still fight. Allibeth is a good queen but she is not mine as Frideth will be mine, now and always. I must and will fly her!

Sea'n sighed. You could not check your dragon when he had a mind to a mating. Weyr rules may be devised as to the conduct of mating flights, but a bronze in lust was recognized to be an immoveable force. No power on Pern could restrain him, saving only a cluster of queens – and there must be no other queen at Telgar for the mating flight, lest they fight amongst themselves when the blood was stirring.

But this was far from usual on many levels. Sammath was not a dragon whose lust was easily aroused, let alone from half-way across Pern and before the queen had even risen. Sammath could not have known – and yet he did.

And Sea'n had not mated with a male before, much less in the heat of a queen flight. Sammath had never flown a green at all, had not bothered to rise when even the most provocative flew. He would fly only for queens, and even then Sea'n alone knew how often he had withdrawn from a flight when the queen had seemed to him not worth the flying.

Allibeth was in truth a good queen – well _worth the flying_ \- and Crista a strong Weyrwoman. Sea'n was content enough in the mating, Sammath flew Allibeth consistently, and Igen prospered under their leadership; he was not looking to change his weyrmate. But if Sammath chose a queen from another Weyr, Crista had at once the right to replace Sea'n with any rider she wished, until Allibeth should rise again and by her choice of dragon invoke the true Weyrleader. Sea'n only hoped it would be one of the mature riders, D'trel, perhaps, who had been leader before him; or at the least a wingsecond with knowledge and experience sufficient to benefit his Weyr.

As Sammath began a slow, spiraling glide down to the still deserted Weyr, Sea'n clutched his jacket about him - the morning air may _be_ warmer than _between_ but it didn't _feel_ it right then – and wondered again just why this queen, Frideth alone of all others in their history, should have been Impressed by a male. He knew it well, the harpers' tale of the lad who should have been their own, save for the accident of a detour to watch a hatching, taken by the blue-rider slated to deliver a promising young musician to the Harper Hall.

Conireth's brood was well-hatched, all but a single egg properly Impressed - hatchlings and their new riders already shuffled off to the care of the Weyrlingmaster - before one final, violent rock brought the golden egg upright. Few of the spectators – even those with son or daughter or friend amongst the lucky – had left their seats. A queen-hatching was an event not to be missed, never to be forgotten, ever to be boasted of, especially by those fortunate enough to have attended more than one such rare and joyous occasion.

A sudden, loud _Crack!_ and pieces of shell flew off in all directions as the little queen made her entrance, alert and eager for Impression. It was an excellent omen - until she rejected out of hand every last one of the candidates standing the ground so hopefully. One swift look but never a second glance for any of the white-clad girls scrambling out of her way as she roamed the Sands unsteadily in desperate search of her perfect match. Piercing cries wracked the mind of every person in the Weyr, echoes of her sorrow thrumming keenly around the Bowl. They were caught up by the many dragons perched or hovering in expectation of their new queen, to thread their croon of welcome with doleful lament.

Weyrwoman Lenara threw open the hatching then, to any whom the young queen would accept. Every female in the rows of tiered seating - age no barrier in so dire a need - came forward to be presented to her, and in turn to be rejected.

Desperation took hold as the little queen's distress grew sharper, her keening louder, with every moment she was denied her rightful rider. Conireth lashed her tail and growled, Lenara at her wits' end and babbling to soothe the queen, distraction proved aloud. None could remember even a whisper of such as this happening before – a queen who failed to Impress. More than one stricken look told what would become of the hatchling were she to find no partner. She would not eat until Impression occurred – and when she died of hunger the entire Weyr would be plunged into deepest mourning for their lost queen.

Unexpectedly her wailing quieted. Human and dragon alike hushed to see why that might be – and in the silence a clear voice asked who had called him. The small queen's cries became ecstatic and she scrabbled frantically to reach the speaker, but M'chen, the blue-rider who had brought him here, realized at last what was afoot and pushed the lad down the steps to meet his lifemate.

'Her name is Frideth!'

Never had the ritual announcement drawn so great a cheer.

Sea'n knew all of this, and not only from harper songs that had tried (and failed) to explain, and could only celebrate the happy conclusion. He had been present at the Weyrmeet called to report and to question the reason for so startling a breach of all custom. There had been some consternation that it should have lighted on a lad, but a queen's choice was sovereign and absolute - and the alternative had been unthinkable; it should, after all, have no bearing on the queen's ability to breed. Of course, a queen flight could not accept a substitute as might occasionally be arranged with greens, so any rider who preferred not to mate with a male must simply absent himself when eventually her mating flights occurred. Frideth would hold only a junior position in a Weyr so very blessed with queens, and a mature bronze would probably prefer to vie for a queen whose mating would confer prestige, and for his rider, advantage.

The honorific contraction was also discussed. Had the lad Impressed another color, he would undoubtedly have become Eli'ah, or perhaps El'ah, according to his taste. But queen dragons were few and vital to Pern, and all should know each one and her weyrwoman by name. A queen-rider _needed_ no honorific; and so it was decided.

And now, what had been merely a harper's tale and another Weyr's problem - one which could have no meaning whatever for him or for Igen - was suddenly very much Sea'n's affair. If Sammath had decided he must win Frideth, then win her he would, no matter who flew against him.

And Sea'n had never mated a male.

When his dragon landed neatly for him to dismount, Sea'n was startled for a moment or two – had not even heard the challenge and reply to the watch dragon and here he was in the Bowl.

_I shall sit on the Heights with Creleth until it is time._

Creleth?

The watchdragon! Really, Sea'n, you are not yourself this morning!

It was true that Sea'n's memory for dragon if not for rider name was usually quite remarkable. _I never am when hauled straight from sleep on a wild queen chase - in the middle of our night _and_ hers!_ he retorted, and felt the deep rumble in his mind that meant Sammath was laughing at him as he leapt upward, climbing on strong wings to the rim of the Weyr.

_Wait! What reason did you give for our being here?_

I gave no reason, Sea'n – that is for you to do.

Indeed - but there was no sense in waking the Weyrleader before his time. The queen would not rise until full light, and probably later. Best to allow K'vret to break his fast decently and come slowly to a day which was like to prove… different, in many respects.

Sea'n knew him to be a good rider, well able for his Weyr but lacking the imagination, the flexibility of thinking, to be a great one. And the leader of another Weyr, turning up at naught past dawn to demand entrance to your most junior queen's maiden flight would, it seemed to Sea'n, be a sure way to irritate even the most sanguine of riders. His welcome would be the better, the later into the day; within reason, of course - and well _before_ Frideth rose.

The smell of fresh klah led him straight to the night hearth. There were more weyrfolk than the bakers rising now, it seemed, for a young man - a mere silhouette against the fire as yet - was already pouring the blessed brew into mugs.

'Good morning, Weyrleader - klah for you! Would you like oatmeal, too?'

'A true lifesaver!' Sea'n said, accepting it gratefully and smothering a yawn. 'And I would indeed - thank you.' It was still too early for anything more by way of conversation – he hoped the lad could appreciate that. He really needed this time to think about, to prepare himself for what must happen if – _when_ \- Sammath won the young queen. He wrapped chilled hands around the mug and stared into the klah as though there might be answers written in its steam.

He knew already that he would never again lead Igen Weyr against Thread. When Sammath flew Frideth he would want to remain here with her, and although he could give and Sea'n could find no explanation for so unprecedented a move, there had been occasions during Fall when Sammath's instinct alone had saved them, saved their wing and sometimes others, from serious harm. Whatever impulse drove him now, it was beyond a simple mating lust, and Sea'n trusted his dragon as no-one else. If Sammath believed this to be needful then he must believe it also.

It would be strange, he thought wryly, to go from leading his Weyr to flying in someone else's wing in another Weyr entirely, but if Sammath could accept it, so could he. And for some time he had suspected that Allibeth defied her rider's wishes in accepting Sammath in flight; that Crista was tiring of Sea'n though her dragon had still a preference for his. Crista's pride would be hurt - he knew that and must regret it - but she may come to welcome their parting, given time.

Sammath would fly Frideth, and Sea'n... in the heat and passion of a mating flight, Sea'n must take her rider.

The theory was obvious; when a green who looked to a male rider was flown, there was always a supply ensured of the finest salve available from the Healer Hall – _to ease the way_, they said; though most greens rose often and the need must surely be less? But who paused for such things when their blood was stirred so deeply that all thought was gone? Of his own experience and to his lingering regret, he knew that virgin girls might suffer pain, and bleed. How much worse then for a virgin male - but Frideth's rider must surely know this? Of course he would. Whatever his own inclination, he could not be so reckless as to leave his first such encounter to a mating flight... Sea'n hoped.

Take this lad, for example, now setting dishes of oatmeal on the table between them - _he_ may well be—No, he was not a green-rider, though Sea'n could place neither lad nor dragon. He knew every one of his own riders, and many a one from the other Weyrs too, and there was always at least a hint of the coquet to tell a green- from a blue- or brown-rider. Here was no such sign. The absence of shoulder knots – so very early in the day he might be forgiven their omission – did not for one moment lead Sea'n to think him no rider at all. The way the lad bore himself spoke of pride in his dragon if not yet in himself. It would come, Sea'n was certain, for he'd a centered look which – a whole mark on it! - would prove him an excellent leader one day, of a wing if not a Weyr.

_Take this lad..._ Sea'n had never looked at a male expecting to find attraction, much less beauty, but indubitably they were here, if well-concealed behind a fall of untidy curls unusual in a rider of—what? Sixteen turns? Sea'n had caught a hasty flash of blue, vivid as sky between dark lashes, before it dipped once more beneath its veiling of hair. Pale skin, lightly warmed by golden firelight, stained suddenly to rose across his cheek - and his mouth, Sea'n thought and wondered at himself, his mouth was as tempting, as _kissable_, as any young maid's. Set against Crista's complacent curves, a lad - _this_ one, young and angular still, so unsure in himself but so confident in his dragon – should have no appeal for him at all. And yet... He had never suspected such a need in himself, had certainly never felt it for any other male - and perhaps only Sammath's overriding desire to fly Frideth could have shown it to him now.

Not that attraction, beauty, turns or need could count for anything in a mating flight. Before Sammath had claimed Allibeth and flown for her alone, he had risen for several queens, two in open flights from other weyrs; Sea'n had taken near as many riders, at least one of whom had been old enough to be his dam. You mated where your dragon chose and won; to remain with the queen's weyrwoman beyond that mating, _that_ was the only choice – hers first, then yours. Most bronzes had no settled pairing and rose for every queen, mating many greens - the rider living with a woman from craft or weyr perhaps; though some riders shared quarters because that _was_ their choice.

But, whatever the unexpected attraction of a lad he'd never have or his concern over the one he'd have to take, now that hands and belly were warming he really should not sit here silent and grumpy as any greybeard uncle and offering little more than, 'Yes, please,' and 'Thank you,' which said more of the manners his mother had instilled into him ('What do you _say_, Seanachan?') than for his usually sociable self.

The young man though, looked to be equally absorbed by a matter requiring his full attention, for he sat with brow furrowed beneath the hair, eating and drinking almost absently. He was not in the least disturbed by Sea'n's preoccupation, for the meal passed pleasantly enough in its quiet. It seemed the only words required at so early an hour really were thanks for more klah or those few involved with the sharing of yesterday's leftover bread toasted companionably at the fire, with butter spread thick and sweeting spread thin. And if Sea'n must look away from the slick slide of a pink tongue as it chased escaping rivulets of butter, that was really no-one's problem but his own.

At last, he thought he should say something to prove himself awake if not exactly intelligent at this hour. 'You are astir early,' he tried. 'Do you too have an errand to another weyr?' No, definitely not intelligent yet.

'No, Weyrleader, my—I was restless and could not sleep longer.'

Sea'n nodded. He wondered if the lad's dragon might be a bronze as sensitive to the rising of a queen as Sammath. A bronze would make him a rival in the flight for Frideth, though Sea'n could scarcely think of him as such. He was wiry enough, but surely could not yet have strength enough to hold his dragon with his mind. Dragon and rider both were young, as yet, and inexperienced; they would learn together through the turns. There were many ways to catch a queen - and few of them ever taught by the Weyrlingmaster. He smiled sympathetically, remembering his and Sammath's earliest - and notably unsuccessful - attempts.

'Weyrleader Sea'n!'

He rose to greet Candessa, headwoman of the Weyr and mistress of the lower caverns, come now to officially set about the day. Large in every sense, and especially of heart, she had a particularly soft spot for bronze riders. She also made it her business to know all that passed at Telgar; she would have his purpose here out of him long before he'd a chance to explain to K'vret, were he not careful. He composed himself to mix smooth evasion and genuine pleasure in the greeting, but he did not fail to notice his breakfast companion slipping away toward the stairs.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Handy Glossary:**
> 
> Dragons and riders live apart from the main populace in **Weyrs**, located within ancient volcanic caldera and their extended cave systems; each dragon/rider pair occupying its own individual weyr. Pern's Dragons were literally designed to fight Thread.
> 
> **Thread** falls from the sky like silver rain, burning and consuming all carbon-based life forms; dragons must chew firestone to fuel the flame with which they fight, high in the air. **Fall** is caused by the **Red Star**, and a **Pass** \- the length of time for which Thread affects Pern - lasts about 50 years, with +/-250 years between Passes. Thread falls in timeable waves, every few days. If it reaches the surface, it transforms into a life form that burrows into soil and kills every growing thing.
> 
> **_Between_**: the cold black nothingness between here and there, and the means by which a dragon may fly from one side of Pern to the other - or any distance at all - in the time it takes to cough three times.
> 
> **Agenothree**: a chemical used to destroy any Thread that lands; also fuels the queen-riders' flamethrowers (HNO3 \- Nitric acid).
> 
> **Hold**: The ordinary people of Pern live in holds of greater or lesser size - caves or clusters of stone-built homes which are proof against Thread, the major holds being on the scale of towns (or perhaps more like castles).
> 
> **Shoulder knots**: worn by all adults on Pern; specific as to place, rank and calling, the more elaborate the knots, the more important the wearer.
> 
> **Dragon status and abilities** are signified by color:
> 
> **Green**: female, smaller than the other colors and nifty in the air; may be impressed by riders of either sex. Randy little buggers that fly frequently for sex with any dragon that can catch them (green-riders tend to have a very… receptive nature). Mating flights are short-lived and relatively low, for greens are rendered infertile by the chewing of firestone. Just as well, or Pern would be knee deep in dragons. (Pregnancy in female riders is inhibited by frequent flying _between_.)
> 
> **Blue**: male, bigger, the "foot soldier" of dragons; Impressed by males.
> 
> **Brown**: male, bigger still, the solid backbone of dragon resistance to Thread; Impressed by males.
> 
> **Bronze**: male, the only ones large and swift enough to mate queens; Impressed by males, who form the elite from which come the Weyrleaders and most other ranking riders.
> 
> **Gold**: the largest dragons and the only breeders, the golden queens are essential to the survival of life on Pern, so they and their riders are the most important beings on Pern. They fight Thread only with flamethrowers, since firestone would make them infertile (also, their design ensured that they cannot process it). A queen mates only for procreation, once or twice a year at most and the egg which contains a queen dragon is also gold. A queen-rider is known as a weyrwoman, the senior queen's rider is the Weyrwoman of that Weyr, and queens are always and only ever Impressed by female riders - until…
> 
> As soon as a dragon hatches, s/he must form a lifelong bond with a compatible human – this is **Impression**. The pair communicates mentally, indicated by italics. If a rider dies, his/her dragon instantly suicides by going _between_ and remaining there. A rider whose dragon dies is left no more than half alive. Every dragon brings its name with it from the egg, and all dragon names end in th.
> 
> **Dragonet**: Young dragon until old enough to fight Thread; senior dragonets &amp; their riders (**weyrlings**) bring replacement firestone sacks to the fighting wings during Fall
> 
> **Honorific Contraction**: the names of all male dragon riders are contracted upon Impression as a sign of their new rank. A dragon rider who loses his dragon also loses his honorific, as L'tol reverted to Lytol after brown Larth died. (McCaffrey herself had not worked out the refinements when she wrote in one of the early books of a newborn being given a contracted name)
> 
> **Mating flights**, whether green or gold, are driven by the lust of the dragons involved; when the male outflies all others to win a female, their riders must also mate, the age and sex of the human partners being irrelevant. The higher the flight the safer, since the pair plummets while temporarily otherwise occupied.
> 
> **Klah** \- a bark-based stimulant drink, similar in purpose and appearance to coffee.
> 
> **Wherry** – large predatory bird. Named for slow, ungainly boats back on old Earth; source of the wherhide that riders wear against the cold of _between_.
> 
> Time on Pern is measured by **sevendays** and **turns** rather than weeks and years.


	2. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…this queen flight had long been expected to be unusual only for the sex of her rider…_

The Igen Weyrleader was not only a very handsome man, Elijah thought, he had a good understanding of early breakfast conversation; which was to say little or none until you were awake enough for your guard to be properly in place.

And, of course, a truthful reply to a visitor's conventionally polite, 'You are awake early - couldn't sleep?' would be impossible. 'My queen is restless because she's about to rise, and I am somewhat concerned about my imminent rape…' definitely did not count as acceptable table conversation at any time of day.

Stirring unmindful at oatmeal falling cold to his musings, Elijah looked out from the shelter of his hair. Sea'n's hands seemed huge as he warmed them around his mug of klah, and Elijah looked down quickly then, remembering green-weyrling giggles at the significance of hand size. Abruptly - and so unexpectedly - he could almost feel those fingers, broad and knowing across his skin, and he shivered, the way he had used to believe, had hoped, that a girl would shiver one day beneath his own touch.

Before he left his home, before M'chen's detour changed his life, he had managed little more than kisses and fumblings with the local girls. There was time enough, after all, and he had always known that he would not remain at the hold, dreaming instead of the Harper Hall for turns before he was accepted there. He'd liked to imagine that he would meet a singer then whose voice would match his music to perfection; that they would bond first through his songs – all written for and dedicated to her, of course - before she came to love him for himself.

He could never regret Impression, for Frideth was a part of him now as he was of her, and he understood too well that neither could, or would wish to, survive the other. But in doing so she had made of him this strange new thing: neither green-rider boy nor queen-rider girl. In the jumble of teaching and of new experience that followed, it had been many, many sevendays before he fully realized the implications; before his mind would acknowledge the fact that queens were mated by bronze dragons and _their_ riders were always male - that he must be mated by a male.

He had never really had a girl of his own before Frideth, and now it seemed that he should not really want one, for she could not, and she would be with him then as always. But he did— he thought that he did… He knew there was no bronze-rider at Telgar that he would accept of his free choice – no rider in the Weyr at all – and yet one day he must, for the sake of his queen whom he loved beyond anything. It was a problem he could only set aside until its time, just one more thing he buried in his quest to become, for her, the most perfect queen-rider ever.

And through the turns of Frideth's maturing, there grew to be a curious awareness - almost imperceptible at the back of his mind - that he must wait; for what or for whom, he had no idea.

_I should have listened to Meretin!_

Elijah raised his head a little, sipping from his mug, not quite looking at Sea'n from beneath his lashes. The Weyrleader was watching him, assessing him as a rider perhaps, Elijah thought. It was not the look that meant he knew Elijah was _Frideth's_ rider, though it would be, were Elijah to give his name as he must, of course, if asked. Elijah knew The Look. He had even seen it on K'vret, who was as attached to Lenara as any Weyrleader to his Weyrwoman. And, although Sea'n and Sammath had famously remained faithful only to Crista and Allibeth these many turns, even he would look at Elijah that way. Probably.

_I _did_ listen, in part. I use his salve most assiduously—_

Though Elijah knew each weyrwoman and every Weyrleader at least by sight, it was no surprise that Sea'n did not recognize _him_, for he worked hard at being as inconspicuous as any queen-rider could possibly be. The Weyr had been most strange to him, when first he came to live here, but it seemed that he was stranger still to the weyrfolk. Always, he knew he was being looked at, appraised for his difference though it lay only in the fact that he had been chosen by a gold hatchling, not by bronze or even green. The speculation had unnerved him, even before he realized - admitted to himself - what it must mean for him to ride a queen. His hair, shorn so tight beneath his mother's scissors, grew long and wild enough for a screen betwixt him and such intrusive glances. Though he could mock himself for doing it, he clung to its concealment even after his Weyr had learned to accept him; also to an 'accidental forgetting' of his knots, when there were visitors about the Weyr. Once he was known for Frideth's rider, their curiosity made him feel to be on display like a precious artifact – and just as unreal; or maybe a patient beneath a healer's hands, waiting for the knife to make its incision. He disliked both equally.

_—I just left out the most essential piece of his advice. _

He had never asked to be different, to be a queen-rider. To be a _rider_, of _course_ \- was that not the wish of every boy on Pern as he grew up, to be Searched and then to Impress a fine strong dragon - bronze, for choice - and fly away from all his cares?

_ "Not here, Elijah, lest you set off the mating urge before its time and the other queens have no warning to leave, but you should arrange a tryst or two. Choose somewhere a little remote and—and to be blunt about it, get yourself opened up gently and learn to enjoy it, before a mating dragon's rider does it for you a good deal more forcibly than is wise!" _

Even had he Impressed a bronze, he understood now that a dragonrider's concerns weighed more heavily than the common folk could ever know, from the daily care of a beast many times your size to the unrelenting danger of the fight against Thread.

_I put it off too long - until Frideth was really much too close to risk it. I worried too soon that I might bring forward her need for a mate when we were so far from the Weyr that she would have only a single dragon to fly her. I worried too soon and now it is too late. And Frideth deserves much better than a single dragon, his rider of my choosing. She should have the bronze she most desires from a mating flight like no other, and then a clutch of which to be proud - for she is the most wonderful queen on Pern!_

Covertly, he returned the Weyrleader's scrutiny, noting the curve of his jaw, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that said he liked to smile if not to laugh a good deal, despite the frown that creased his forehead now. His riding jacket was still draped across his shoulders after the chill of _between_, but the way it hung gave Elijah hints of strong muscle on a compact frame. He was just thinking how neat and perfect were Sea'n's ears when Sea'n looked up and for one reckless moment Elijah met his eyes and was stunned. Firelight danced always on the cavern walls, tiny sparks of white fire drawn constantly from the surface of the rock - but it glittered now within the green-brown depths of Sea'n's eyes and brought out flames of gold to flicker hot and enticing over Elijah's skin.

He dropped his gaze at once to the empty dishes before them, and when he regained his breath he realized how very much he would have liked to choose this rider for his first time, had it been permitted, had Sea'n been here to ask. Too late. His mother had always told him that _if only_ and _too late_ were the saddest words on Pern. He had believed others, like _death_ and _parting_, worse, but now he began to understand just what she had meant - how heavy regret may lie, and how fervent the wish to turn back time.

_Only a few sevendays ago – perhaps even the last… Too late now, by far. But there has never before been any rider I have wished to touch me that way, for _me_ and not for Frideth. And when the green weyrlings chatter about matings, they say that unless your dragon is involved, the rider comes between you and her, if only for a little while. You forget her. I have never yet wished to forget Frideth, no matter how short the time - but perhaps with Sea'n… _

And the many duties of a queen-rider… no-one who did not ride a queen would ever appreciate how hard their riders worked to ensure the continuance of their Weyr and its dragons. (He made sure now to offer further hospitality to Sea'n – _his_ guest for this while - bread toasted at last night's embers, as enjoyable to make as to eat, and which it seemed that even a pre-occupied Weyrleader could enjoy, though the butter melting down his fingers made Elijah look away to his own as Sea'n's tongue swept out and around…) Elijah had been taught Weyr leadership just as any junior queen's rider was taught – as though Frideth might ever lead Telgar. _And wouldn't_ that _cause a problem with the naming!_ he'd thought wryly, more than once. But to lead a Weyr, he would need a weyrmate…

_Would any Telgar rider ever want to be with me for _me_? Bronze-riders look at me _that_ way, and they don't see Elijah, they just see a queen-rider – a very odd one, at that. And they wonder what it would be like to ride this queen's rider, whether a junior queen's status and prerogatives would be worth such a weyrmating. _

Would Sea'n have seen me, if I had been of his Weyr?

Elijah clamped down hard on his thoughts, for Frideth was stirring now toward true wakefulness, not one of the mild flurries of disquiet that set her twitching in her sleep. He had only the time when she slept – more often now, it seemed – to worry at his own feelings, to chase his thoughts in circles that came closer and closer to the thing he feared; knowing and fearing more the danger should he inhibit her mating with his own concerns. And green-riders, of course, did this all the time, were mated often and by many different riders. He could and would do this for Frideth. It was only that—

_I don't _want_ any of them! _

It would be soon. Her dreams had become so vivid in his mind when he listened for her, dreams of soaring high and fast, of riding the air, of searching for she knew not what. Elijah knew. And he knew also that the dreams were far more frequent - the colors brighter, the feelings more intense with every night that passed. It must be very soon now…

_I want—_

'You are astir early,' Sea'n said then. 'Do you too have an errand to another weyr?'

'No, Weyrleader, my—I was restless and could not sleep longer.'

Sea'n nodded, understandingly it seemed, though how he could… But then he smiled too, and Elijah's confusion lost itself suddenly to the warmth of that smile.

_If only—_

'Weyrleader Sea'n!'

Sea'n rose from their table by the hearth as Candessa bustled up to him to plant a kiss on both cheeks. She was as homely as she was efficient, shrewd but affectionate, especially to those she adopted as her own. Her kindness above all had made weyrlife bearable for Elijah when first he lived here. Her eyes twinkled a little as he slipped quietly away to his weyr - she would find out for him why Sea'n had come to Telgar, and so early in the day. As queen-rider it was his right to know, but the asking would have marred the quiet companionship they shared. Candessa would get for him Sea'n's purpose here before he even knew that he had told it – and Elijah knew she would not give him away.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

_Upward she soared, so high and fast that to breathe was work, plummeting then to play along each passing current, spiraling within it, riding its warmth to swoop aloft or forsaking it to plunge once more – _feeling_ the air as she never had before this insatiable urge took her and set every inch of her sueded skin aglow, alive and eager for—for what, she did not yet know, but she wanted, _needed_ so very much…_

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

The flight was long and high and hard, the taking must be equally so. Meretin, Weyrhealer these many turns, hovered worriedly - just near enough to Frideth's quarters to be of immediate use should his skills be needed, just far enough beyond the heavy curtain to preserve privacy for the weyrwo—weyr-_rider_ and _his_ mate. He would have done the same for a virgin weyrwoman, but his anxiety was somewhat sharper for Elijah, for fear and resistance could bring him only pain.

Rider after rider had emerged, baffled and dizzied from the queen's weyr, until only the fastest, most experienced of dragons were left in the chase. Telgar's best - and also Sammath, bronze leader of Igen Weyr. And that was a wonder in itself, thought Meretin - not that only the best should have the strength to pursue a capricious queen into submission, of course, but that this dragon and his rider should be here at all. Sea'n had led Igen for turns now, since a hard flight against D'trel's Menogeth had won Allibeth for Sammath.

Quite why or how they had appeared this very morning - certain in the knowledge that this would be the day of Frideth's maiden flight - was matter for marvel. Sammath had insisted they come, Sea'n said, in the rather awkward meeting of Weyrleader and Weyrwoman and their seconds, harper and healer, too. Though he must explain – and their council approve - the presence of another Weyr's leader in the flight of a young queen, it was mere formality. A bronze who had dragged his rider here half-dressed, who was convinced that he must and would fly Frideth – such a dragon could not be gainsaid.

This queen flight had long been expected to be unusual only for the sex of her rider; a quite modest affair comprising a very junior queen and those bronzes without a gold weyrmate whose riders could accept a male queen-rider.

Instead, Frideth's flight had become an event to rival that of a senior queen, and one that involved every bronze in the Weyr saving only K'vret's (and Meretin suspected _him_ of more than half-wishing to take part, had not he and Geneth stood so much in awe of Lenara and Conireth. Their weyrmates may not be here in person to restrain either man or dragon, but there would be talk afterward, and K'vret knew it well). Not only the bronzes, but half the browns in the Weyr, too - all on their mettle to prove Telgar full of virile dragons who needed no help from _any_where to fly one of their own queens.

When Frideth rose tauntingly from the feeding grounds, fully fifty males rose after her, weaving their lust in ribbon-trails across the sky as she streaked away before them. A rare and tricksy chase she led, higher by far and faster than any brown could hope to sustain; before long, most were forced to abandon the hunt - all, before the young queen arrowed teasingly back toward the Weyr, diving, tempting every male to try for her. The bronzes were then so close, and the wearied browns so many, that they must jostle for position, each one hoping to take her from above - doomed to disappointment all, as she swooped quicksilver between one dragon and the next. Wings folded close, more lithe than her greater size should ever have allowed, she rippled through the body of the pack at speed, leaving them to disarray and near collision.

Flirting her tail at the scant handful that managed to avoid the trap and stay with her, she coquetted into the distance, agility abandoned now to this race among the fleetest of the fleet, Frideth herself both pace-setter and prize.

Bowl and grounds filled steadily with exhausted dragons, many too tired even to seek their own weyrs; thwarted riders leaving Frideth's quarters just as steadily, to find within another body some comfort for a loss they'd not known they would regret until defeat became reality. And with B'ratal's emergence, last but one of all who had entered there, the victor was clear at last.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Who's Who In This Version Of Pern**
> 
> **Igen Weyr**   
> Sea'n – Weyrleader, dragon bronze Sammath  
> Crista – Weyrwoman, dragon gold Allibeth   
> Dortes – gold Darith  
> Jacela – gold Calaranth  
> Sunira – gold Nostarith, weyrmate N'dris  
> S'rone – Weyrleader, dragon bronze Renorlith  
> D'trel – wing-leader, bronze Menogeth  
> S'ttan – wing-leader, bronze Zendreth  
> N'dris – bronze unnamed  
> M'han – brown unnamed  
> S'lcon – green Nelath  
> Weyrlingmaster R'bant
> 
> **Telgar Weyr**  
> K'vret – Weyrleader, bronze Geneth  
> Lenara – Weyrwoman, gold Conireth  
> Narenis – retired, gold Sinitroth  
> Zeta – deceased, gold Ralenth  
> Riana - gold Belteth, weyrmate A'sren  
> Elijah - gold Frideth  
> Jendria – gold Malanath  
> T'dray – wing-leader, bronze Baranith  
> A'sren - wing-leader, bronze Katenith  
> B'ratal – bronze Tennoth  
> L'grat – bronze Segoneth  
> F'mir - blue Maruth  
> Darial – green Tabrath  
> Pr'len – green Litanith  
> Creleth – watchdragon, brown, rider unnamed  
> Cernuth – junior dragon, rider unnamed  
> Weyrlingmaster N'clas  
> Senior dragonets blue Mispeth and brown Dalanth  
> K'ris - weyrling, green Helisth  
> V'diren - weyrling, bronze Romiroth  
> Candessa – Headwoman  
> Meretin – Weyrhealer  
> Carlen – Weyrharper  
> Hennest - seamstress  
> Durker – under-cook  
> Barlek – drudge  
> Marinis – his spouse
> 
> **Benden Weyr**  
> R'nal – Weyrleader, bronze Keresth  
> Marenna – Weyrwoman, gold Elianith  
> Tyela – gold Choriath  
> Carilan – gold, unnamed  
> T'lekan - wing-leader, bronze Brenth  
> J'reny - wing-second, bronze unnamed
> 
> **High Reaches Weyr**  
> R'faen – Weyrleader, bronze Hurth  
> Doriah - Weyrwoman, gold Surinath  
> Cleya – gold Quelith  
> Lianth - gold dragon, weyrmate bronze Cadreth  
> S'rey – bronze Cadreth
> 
> **Fort Weyr **  
> V'rise – Weyrleader, bronze Pogreth   
> Birte – Weyrwoman, gold Eirlith  
> M'chen – blue Andeloth
> 
> **Fort Hold **  
> Lord Holder Teragon
> 
> **Harper Hall**  
> Master Perrenac - Master Archivist  
> Master Ferlis – Master of Composition  
> Andaste – sometime harper at Kervela Hold
> 
> **Healer Hall**  
> Masterhealer Lotine  
> Master Anatalis
> 
> **Anon Hold**  
> Rial &amp; Jeden - Elijah's younger brothers  
> Lita &amp; Syntri - girls  
> Rontel - boy
> 
>  
> 
> I believe each of these characters to be mine alone. The first Sean (sic) and his Sorka (on Carenath and Faranth), Torene and her M'hall belong to McCaffrey, and you must read [her books](http://amazon.com/s/ref=nb_ss_gw/002-9976732-9354444?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=anne+Mccaffrey+&Go.x=6&Go.y=13/) to discover their great love stories!
> 
> Sean and Sorka led Pern's first Weyr, which was Fort. Dragons were bio-engineered from an indigenous species (known as firelizards) by Kitti Ping. She used the highly secret techniques of the Eridani in response to the threat of Threadfall, of which they had known nothing when colonizing the planet. Her success was limited to just 18 eggs – of which Duluth, and Marco his rider, died when they accidentally discovered how to go _between_ without understanding how to return.


	3. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> …the jubilant cry of a conquered queen, echoing through the Weyr…

The contenders jostled intently into Frideth's weyr, sweeping Elijah before them from the feeding grounds. Never before had Sea'n seen so many surround a single rider, so many dragons eager to fly one queen. He followed, more determined than any, but knowing that no action of his could affect the outcome now; he trusted to Sammath, as always.

He had been unsurprised, somehow, to find Elijah to be the one with whom he broke his fast that morning; unsurprised and relieved - and desperate that his dragon should win for him the boy he had wanted even then. Small wonder that he had been preoccupied, Sea'n thought, and freely admitted that he could not have been more wrong about Elijah's strength. To master a queen of Frideth's will took more of that than most bronze riders would ever have, and he had done it without flinching. With his mind alone he had curbed his passion-ruled queen to the greater purpose, to the blooding only of her kill, to fuel the high, fast flight of a promising clutch.

He stood now within a three-deep circle of avid riders, their faces hot and covetous. It seemed that each had forgotten or set aside the fact this would be no ordinary queen-mating; every man rode his dragon's hunger willingly now.

Elijah's head was thrown back, face clear and pale, his eyes as wide and empty as the air his queen commanded. Frideth's every mood reflected upon and through him: her pleasure in flight widened rosy lips into a sensuous smile; vaunting glee showed sharp white teeth in laughter as male after male must give up the chase. His body swayed to and fro, seductive as the queen's evasive slither through their ranks - provocative, taunting the riders as Frideth taunted and aroused and defeated their dragons, spinning away in a flash of joy bluer than the sky in which they flew, whirling his queen's delight, her determination to outfly all – all but the one.

_Sammath watched as she reveled in ascendancy over the many males that sought her, thinking none swift or clever enough to match her. She would know better – and soon._

The lust on those greedy faces came no longer solely from their dragons, the regret as they departed as much for the loss of this beautiful boy.

_Instinctively he had stayed back from the chaos she caused, anticipating, admiring her guileful tricks, knowing that he must bide his time to win a queen so fast and cunning._

Rival after rival must retreat – the unskilled and the experienced alike. Rider and dragon thwarted, each vanquished by a vision they could never own, as the end came ever closer. Within Sea'n the desire coursed more hotly, the anxiety far keener - for never before had it mattered so much that Sammath should fly his queen.

_She was not won, not yet, but at length Tennoth, last of all others, began to lose speed, wavering in the air, finally subsiding into the tired glide of many dragons back toward the Weyr - and he could fly more easily now, knowing Frideth must and would be his._

Though she might be still to catch, Sea'n knew and rejoiced the moment Sammath was left to a solitary pursuit of his artful queen. Too soon, in truth, to take Elijah but Sea'n gathered him into his arms, to kiss him as he had needed from the first. Elijah resisted, his mind bound up into his queen's, soaring, exulting, for the lust had not yet overcome her – or him.

_She was his and his alone to take and ride - his beautiful, wily Frideth whom he would follow now and always. _

He guided Elijah unseeing toward the bed, pushing him down, clothes falling rapid prey to need. The smooth male body held for him its own allure, this taking all his own wish now though the lust of his dragon might color his desire.

_Bright elation gave strength to his wings as imperceptibly he began to climb toward the sun._

Elijah's mind may sail aloft with Frideth but his body was here with Sea'n, arching into his touch as lips and hands trailed pale and perfect skin - mapping planes that might even have been female, and those which quite definitely were not - to where Elijah rose to meet his mouth. Sea'n took him in without pause, his only thought to bring pleasure, fast and wild and beautiful upon him…

_She peered beneath one wing to see who might dare still to challenge her – faltering a little, Sammath thought with a mischief of his own, to find only an empty sky. He hovered…_

…pleasure to balance the hurt he must also bring… but, now—there, _there_, by the bed. Sea'n dipped blindly, coating himself, sliding his fingers over, pushing them into Elijah - trying for care despite all lust

_Frideth, brightly gilded, there below – and glorious_

Elijah shuddered again, writhing to his touch

_Out of the sun, Sammath dove_

Sea'n's craving wholly driven now to meet his dragon's need

_Catch hold, clutch fast _

Dragon scent - spicy-hot and dizzying within so close a space

_Clasp and twine and—_

Gold suede soft beneath his fingers

_Frenzy roused to fever pitch_

Now!

_One fast and perfect lunge_

Mine!

_Mine!_

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

_Ahhhhh!_

The jubilant cry of a conquered queen, echoing through the Weyr - well-flown, well-caught by the bronze with speed and wits and lust enough to claim her.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

Dusk was already creeping through Frideth's weyr before Elijah woke slowly back into the world. His first thought was elation, that his queen should have flown so high and far to be vanquished at last by _such_ a bronze. A flight to remember! Her contentment - and a sleepy triumph - spread through both of them.

_A flight and a mating to be proud of! Did you doubt that I would choose wisely?_

Never, dear one, and I am happy for you!

His second was discomfort – but not the tearing pain that he had feared.

_You hurt? _

Only a little, and I shall soon be well – do not worry for me.

The third was of the rider beside him on the bed.

_Sammath is a fine dragon. His rider will be good for you._

Sammath... Sea'n... _Sea'n_ had been the one to take him! His wish had been granted, in despite of _too late_! For – he stretched cautiously – this was _not_ pain that he felt. He had been… his belly was sticky - he had...

Elijah remembered an ecstasy that was not wholly Frideth's, and he shivered.

Sea'n was asleep still, his face turned toward Elijah, almost but not quite touching. Elijah remembered the tangles he had seen sleep make of exhausted lovers; suddenly, he would have liked that with Sea'n – would like Sea'n to want that with him. He sighed and leaned carefully close. Gone now was the concern that clouded his face when they shared their breakfast – a memory that flushed Elijah with a warmth he hugged to himself. Had Sea'n been thinking then of his bronze flying the queen, of taking the boy he knew only as a name? What if Elijah had confessed to who he was? He could not imagine. But he wished that Sea'n would open his eyes. Firelight had flickered their golden glints into flame, and Elijah wanted to see that again, to imagine its seductive heat playing along his naked body, little though Sea'n may mean it for a boy, now that the dragon-lust was past.

Far more lover than famous leader, lying here like this, he thought, his face relaxed almost into a sleeping smile. Sea'n looked much younger – and… content, at least, though Elijah wanted to believe him happy in their mating. For himself, he was both happy and sad at once, strangely fulfilled and a little lonely, but most of all confused. Wanting to touch, knowing he should not now all was over, he rolled cautiously off the bed and made for the bathing room, walking gingerly. What he felt was mostly as Meretin had said he should be - open. But the healer had not said that he would also feel _empty. _

Elijah carefully lowered himself into the pool, the water swirling around him warm as the caress of large and skilful hands... He had imagined those hands upon him, before Frideth flew, but that had been no more than a boy's impossible hope for the bold Weyrleader as savior from the inexorable rape that he feared.

Candessa discovered for him Sea'n's reason for coming to Telgar in such haste. Not waiting for Elijah to find her in the caverns, she had huffed laboriously up to his weyr, agog with her tale of Sammath's urgent need to fly Frideth, even as Sea'n began his explanation to K'vret.

That impossible hope had risen high within Elijah before the mating instinct flared free at last and his mind dissolved into his queen's. The last traces of his own thought had been of Sea'n - and it had happened. He was taken, but also saved. Sea'n had taken him, as Elijah had so wanted him to.

He lay back, stretching languorously, reliving Sea'n's true touch upon his skin - and kisses too, when he had not expected them at all. Meretin's warnings had been clear enough as to the taking, but he had not said there might be kisses, only a dragon-driven lust, hard and fast and probably violent. Never a word either of tenderness or of the care he had known, hasty and dragon-curbed though it might have been.

Sea'n had tried first to kiss his mouth and Elijah – how he regretted it now! – had pushed him away. From his face only, for Sea'n had coaxed him to the bed, undressing him, tracing his body with that scatter of hurried kisses… Elijah ran his fingers softly in their wake, renewing the memory of Sea'n's lips and hands upon him, rousing his skin to heat and want as Sea'n had then, reminding his skin of here and here and, yes, _there._

For too long his own hand had been - had had to be - enough, but it must be forever small and boring, now. He would need his remembrance of a broad touch callused to a different, delicious friction. Almost, he could feel it, Sea'n's hand guiding his, rousing him once more to an unfamiliar pitch of pleasure, fast and desperate already. Holding, flickering, teasing – the caresses Sea'n had given, would have given had Sammath's haste allowed, his lips too shaping this headlong rush of desire. Then Elijah's breath caught as he gave himself to the memory of Sea'n's mouth upon, around him, claiming him in a shock of liquid heat—

Too good, too quick... and he pulsed into the roiling water, Sea'n's name stifled into a groan.

Lazily content, he floated on the warmth, remembering the new sensation Sea'n had found for him, deep inside. He winced a little at a tentative exploration with fingers, practical as ever they had been with Meretin's salve - nothing at all like the touch of Sea'n's fingers making him ready, letting him fly... What Sea'n had given him then was far greater - too much - just right… and Elijah's, too, had been a flight to remember.

He had not wanted that before, had resisted even the thought. But - impossibly - from Sea'n he needed it again.

Climbing from the pool at last he dried and wrapped a towel around himself, trying several ways of draping that he hoped Sea'n might find alluring - before remembering that, set against the lissome beauty that was Crista's, that Sea'n must know only too well, he was wasting his time. He sighed, tied it firmly and practically, and returned to the sleeping room.

Without the least idea how he would set about it - given no dragon-lust to suppress Sea'n's natural inclination - Elijah was determined that he would know Sea'n's kiss - or feel his touch, at least - once more before he left Telgar and this mating behind him.

It was almost dark now. Elijah flipped open the glow baskets – and stopped. The bed was empty. There would be neither kiss nor touch of any kind, for Sea'n had gone already, with no farewell at all. Sea'n had left him.

Elijah knew he should have expected no more. His mating had been wonderful - he must be glad for that, at least - but it was over. Fighting the urge to throw himself down and howl his disappointment, he only sighed, swallowed hard, and quickly dressed. There was still Meretin to reassure.

_The Weyrleader has not left, for Sammath is here with me. _

Frideth's voice was drowsy, satisfied. Elijah looked through to her couch and knew suddenly – he had wondered often – just why so large a space was needed: in order that a bronze dragon may sleep curled around his golden queen after a flight – and a mating – to remember.

Suppressing a twinge of jealousy – that Sea'n had not woken like that with him, that Frideth had never _felt_ so content before – Elijah turned for the stairs. To see Sea'n backing towards him between the heavy curtains, bearing a tray laden with sweet pastries, fruit and wine.

In surprise and relief, Elijah sat down heavily on the bed, and winced. Sea'n caught his expression, and the smile he was offering turned to worry.

'I—Did I hurt you?' he asked. 'Too much, I mean. Do you need the healer? He is waiting, in case.' He set down the tray and gestured with one hand toward the stairs.

Elijah shook his head. The question caught him unawares - he had not expected whoever took him to really consider the matter, only to be left to Meretin's care. But then, he had forgotten the ritual sharing of food and wine in celebration of a flight well-flown.

Sea'n looked nowhere but at his task as he poured for each of them (only the best, of course, for the riders of a newly-mated queen and her bronze). 'I am sorry if I—' He broke off as he held out the glass, then tried again. 'I have never… I am used to…'

'I know,' Elijah said, accepting the wine. He added wryly, 'I was, too! Or at least I was _getting_ there. Before I Impressed Frideth, I mean. After that, I didn't—And now...'

Now, those attempts with Lita or Syntri – or even fumblings less childish and kisses less clumsy – could never again bring him what he truly wanted, but he did not know how he could confess that to a man who had long been faithful to his Weyrwoman and must soon enough return to her. 'I am well enough,' he said stiltedly. 'You were very... careful despite all. I—I thank you for that.'

'I would never wish to hurt you.' Sea'n said, simply. He looked up then to meet Elijah's eyes and smiled, raising his glass to chink the two together in a toast. 'To Frideth and a fine clutch!'

'To Sammath and a fine clutch!' Elijah managed the traditional reply, wishing that smile could be for him always. He helped himself hurriedly to one of the tiny pastries filled with fruit and spices - a confection designed, it was said, to return strength to the newly-mated pair; he really felt to need its sustenance.

'Sammath made me come here, did anyone tell you?' Among his many perfections, Sea'n possessed the ability to eat flaked pastry without spraying crumbs - though Elijah was honest enough to admit to himself that noticing it said far more of his state of mind than of Sea'n. He concentrated on another pastry and tried not to blush.

'Somehow, he knew that Frideth would rise today and he was determined that he could and would fly her. I knew _of_ her – and of you, of course! You are famous throughout Pern. But—' Sea'n frowned, 'you must have lain very low since she hatched, for I don't recall to have seen either of you before.'

'Candessa told me how you came to be here!' He smiled at Sea'n's grimace; _no_-one could keep from Candessa a thing she intended to know. 'For the rest - I go abroad very little for it makes me uneasy, being stared at. I expect they will still look at me, but in a different way, now.' An uncomfortable thought, but one which would keep for the morrow. And would they stare the more now, because he and his queen had been taken by the leaders of another Weyr? Elijah didn't know and could not bring himself to care what _they_ might think of that, for he would never wish it undone. 'I don't understand how Sammath could have known, though,' he said, 'or why he would have such need to fly her.'

'Nor do I.'

_I know. It is enough._

Sea'n laughed. 'He woke just enough to say that he knows and that should be enough!'

Elijah nodded. There was a silence.

A weyrling lesson on post-flight awkwardness and how to overcome it would have been most useful amongst the myriad other things a queen-rider was expected to learn, Elijah thought now. But, for the act of mating, the teaching had been concerned all with such matters as clutch size, quality and distribution being governed by the time and distance flown, and the absolute imperative of height to ensure a safely airborne coupling. And, of course, with the implications for him personally of being taken – with reason, perhaps, but made unnecessary by the care Sea'n had somehow given even as his dragon's lust drove him on.

He knew that he really had not thanked Sea'n properly but could not find words to truly tell his own relief and gratitude. No words, perhaps, but he might offer instead what Sea'n had done before he took him. He must like that, to know the pleasure it gave, and Elijah really wanted to try; he wanted to claim Sea'n with his mouth even as Sea'n had claimed him.

But, Sea'n could never be his. He must leave, and soon, for he belonged with Crista, and even a queen's mating flight would not change that, no matter how Elijah might wish it. For Sea'n had mated always with _real_ queen-riders - like Crista. And she was Weyrwoman of Igen; with herself and her queen she brought to Sea'n the leadership of his Weyr. He needed nothing that a junior rider - and a _boy_ \- could bring him.

Recalling just how many turns Sea'n and Sammath had mated only with Crista and Allibeth, Elijah tried hard not to resent them. He failed, and the silence stretched on. Needing something to do, he poured more wine for them and Sea'n smiled for him again, though Elijah could feel that he was already preparing to take his leave. Sea'n was simply out of practice at the polite parting, he realized. All those turns with Crista. Of course.

Sea'n cleared his throat, then. 'I don't know whether... I—Sammath and I, we are used to living with our queen, you see, but you may not want that?' He made the statement into a question.

Elijah stared at him in shock. 'You wish to stay? At Telgar? _Here?_' He could never have expected, much less dared hope for this. Surely, Sea'n must return to Crista? 'But, what about your Weyr, what about—Igen?'

'I can no longer remain leader there – or there at all, since Sammath has chosen Frideth above all others and would be most unhappy to live so far from her. It is your choice, of course. I shall ask K'vret for a weyr of our own away from yours if that is what you – and Frideth - prefer.'

_Sammath must stay! The leader must stay!  
_  
'No! No, you must stay!' Elijah said, almost as quickly as his dragon. 'Frideth wishes you – Sammath and you - to stay with us. Here—' He swept a hand widely to include both Frideth's couch and his bed, lest Sea'n could think he meant anything less than that, than the sharing of their weyr.

What more might come could wait its time. For now, for Elijah, it was enough that Sea'n would still be here with him.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~


	4. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…I would want him now had you not won Frideth and I could never have him… _

'Elijah? May I come in?'

The healer scarcely waited for assent before he was there by the bed. For a moment he was worried, despite the reassurance Sea'n had given him that Elijah was unhurt, for Elijah lay sprawled, face down. But, he rolled to sit up with only a quick grimace soon lost to a smile of welcome.

'Well,' Meretin said, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at him, 'and so you had no need of me? You are sure?'

Elijah ducked his head and the smile turned secretive. 'You are such a mother hen, Meretin! Yes, I am sure. Very sure!'

Meretin gave him an almost stern look. 'And who is the healer here, you or I?' Then he laughed. 'I am so happy for you, Elijah, that your mating was successful!'

When Elijah looked up, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes seemed bigger than ever, flickering from bright happiness to liquid sorrow and back again. 'Thank you,' was slow and thoughtful, something more than the obvious relief the healer had hoped to hear after Frideth's flight.

'I told you that you should have done it long ago,' Meretin reminded him. 'You would have saved yourself a lot of anxiety if you had.'

That was not all, though.

He had had much to do with Elijah since he Impressed, for the lad's mother had taught him some skill in the cleaning and treatment of smaller wounds; deft hands were always needed during Threadfall, before Frideth had ever flown. Besides which, the Weyrwoman had extracted from him the promise that he would look after Elijah at all times. She emphasized the last words, and he had known then, so soon after Impression, that she was considering his queen's - _Elijah's_ – eventual mating, asking Meretin to prepare him against that day. He had done so, warning Elijah, in due time, of what must and what might happen in the heat of such a flight – perhaps a little too graphically, he realized when it was already said. But he had made sure also that Elijah understood that for some, their dragons apart, that way of love was theirs by choice.

In almost three turns Meretin had come to know him well, and that was _not_ all.

Elijah shook his head suddenly. 'It would not have been the same!' he snapped, then, relenting, 'I'm sorry, but it would not. I still would not wish to—to do that with anyone else.'

'But from Weyrleader Sea'n it was something you wanted?'

There was a silence.

'Something I want,' Elijah confessed very quietly.

'Ah,' Meretin said, understanding now.

Sammath had taken Sea'n back to Igen, for this one night, at least, to resign his leadership and collect his possessions. To the Weyr in which a faithful queen and her rider awaited their return. And Elijah was left here with no means to fight for what he wanted, had he even believed he had the right, as Meretin knew that he had.

In those three turns Elijah had lived apart. Made strange simply by being his queen's choice, he could himself have chosen to force acceptance by putting himself permanently in view. He declined that path, and chose instead to withdraw a little and to put his all into learning to be the perfect queen-rider. Few people may know it, but Meretin would have ventured a sizeable wager on the fact that Elijah possessed more knowledge of Weyr organization, history and protocol than any other two queen-riders together. Given turns and experience, he would make the ideal Weyrwoman - except, of course that he never _quite_ could. And now he had been shown how satisfying it might be, to be weyrmated.

Meretin had been in no real doubt of Sea'n's skill as a lover before this, and none at all now that he had brought Elijah pleasure in the mating the lad had dreaded for so long. It was certainly Sammath's insistence that had brought Sea'n here, Sammath's attachment to his new queen that impelled the weyrmating that Sea'n announced before he left, as though it were an arrangement no different to the norm; but Meretin did not believe that Sea'n could have done that for – and with – Elijah, had he felt no more than dragon-lust, acquiescing only to his dragon's will.

'Elijah,' he said, in a bracing tone, 'stop moping! Sea'n has said that he will return, has he not?'

'Yes, but it is such a big thing, to resign his Weyr!'

'And he has weyrmated with you, has he not?'

'Yes, but only because Sammath needs to be with Frideth.'

'And your mating was satisfying for each of you, was it not?'

'Oh, yes! I mean, I think so, for Sea'n too, but he is used to a real weyrwoman. A _woman_, not a boy who had never even—'

'And he complained of that?'

'Of course not, but—but she is beautiful, Meretin, and they have been weyrmated for so long, and she is _there!_'

'Well, _you_ are _here_ – just as Sea'n will be, as soon as he may. Sammath will make sure of that, for he is obviously as besotted with your queen as you seem to be with his rider!'

Elijah may have blushed but Meretin noticed that he did not try to deny it.

'I am not what he wants, though,' he said stubbornly.

'Tut!' Meretin said, somewhat impatient that Elijah should have so little confidence in Sea'n's intention to return. But, he had been offered what Meretin knew he needed so much – companionship with a mate of his own; he may well be afraid to believe too soon.

And it was not, after all, _impossible_ for Sea'n to override his dragon's wish, to decide after all that leading a Weyr with Crista by his side meant more to him than a beautiful boy and his very junior queen. Not impossible, no, but Meretin had watched closely as Sea'n collected the ritual tray of food and wine. His eyes had held their own soft smile, and when he answered the healer's anxious questioning, something very like the tenderness of a lover was in his voice. Meretin had suspected then that, dragons apart, Sea'n would not again leave Elijah.

'He managed to find pleasure with you, didn't he? Despite your many and very obvious _shortcomings_? Well, then!'

The teasing jibe almost brought a smile, but Elijah still insisted, 'That was because of Sammath and Frideth!'

'Was it really?' Meretin was serious again, now. 'Was it Sammath who told him to open you enough not to hurt you? Did Frideth show him what most you liked so that he might bring you pleasure? Was it only your dragons who found ecstasy in each other?'

'No!'

'Then trust to the fact that Sea'n will return to you! Come – you must eat. Think of Sea'n's disappointment if you waste away in his absence!'

Elijah did smile at that, and Meretin steered him down the steps to the evening meal without another word.

~~~~\~/~~~~

 

This formal withdrawal from his Weyr, from his position as Weyrleader, must be completed as soon as possible. Sea'n had no doubt at all that the news would already have flown to every Weyr and major Hold on Pern, Igen being merely first of the many. It was, taken all in all, such a remarkable occurrence that no green-rider alive could have resisted sharing the gossip as widely as possible.

But he could do nothing other than resign, it must be done properly, and so he had come. This could never be easy, but he knew already that Crista would try to make it as difficult for him as she could. Not that he would blame her, of course. A Weyrleader did not leave his Weyrwoman. His dragon may be defeated in flight, if the queen sensed her rider's discontent with him or should another bronze become more favored, but he never _chose_ to leave – the choice was always hers. Sea'n's desertion could only be seen as an insult both to queen and to rider, because it was, little though he may intend it. The fault was his.

_No, mine!_ Sammath told him, though there was more of satisfaction in his tone than of apology.

_Mine too, for the only truth I could tell her now is that I want Elijah – that I would want him now had you not won Frideth and I could never have him. And that would wound her pride even more than our defection to Telgar for she would see it as betrayal beyond insult. And rightly so, perhaps, though I cannot truly regret it. I regret hurting her, I regret leaving the Weyr that has been my home for so long, and also that my riders must accustom themselves suddenly to a new leader - though, of course, that _could _have happened after any mating flight!_

Pfft! was quietly draconic derision at the teasing suggestion that he could fail to win his queen should he choose to fly her.

_Of course not – I beg your pardon! _

Sammath's amusement rippled through his mind, before the voice was serious once more.

_We do have to leave here, Sea'n, for we shall be needed._

But when Sea'n asked why, as they glided down to Igen Weyr for the very last time as its leaders, his dragon could give no answer, only a groundless certainty.

~~~

 

'What do you mean, Sammath chose Frideth?' Crista's was a shrill anger. 'How could he choose a queen from another Weyr? How could he, he doesn't even know her? Unless—have you been meeting that _boy_ – what's his name? - behind my back?'

'I have no idea how Sammath could do so, but he did. And his name is Elijah as you well know, he is no longer a boy and he is now my weyrmate,' Sea'n said, evenly, 'and you also know that I would not do such a thing to you.'

Crista gaped at him. '_Weyrmate?_ You like boys? But Sammath has never—I have watched—' she broke off.

Sea'n had always pretended not to see her unreasoning jealousy of every other queen-rider in the Weyr – and in any other they might visit. He had not even thought to look whether it also extended to green-rider girls, much less to the boys. He could understand her disbelief now, though. It was not a thing he had known of himself, until Elijah had made it… not only possible, but the only way possible for him now.

'No,' he said patiently. 'Not boys – only Elijah.'

He was not going to share with her – with anyone, ever – the irony of suddenly being given what he had never known he could want, only to find that the one person from whom he wanted it would prefer to pair with a female of his own. Elijah was no willing green-rider male - he had none of their instincts. In those first, awkward minutes of adjustment following the flight, his stumbling words had reminded Sea'n of his own first attempts with girls at Elijah's age, and that _he_ would definitely not have welcomed such a mating then, either. Though Elijah had tried to be tactful, Sea'n understood well enough that it had been Frideth's desire alone and none of his.

_Elijah had great pleasure in our mating, Sea'n._

Frideth told you this?

I felt it too, as Frideth knew of yours.

Sammath had never before said such a thing of their matings, but Crista was still talking and from his dragon came only one final comment, a reassuring reminder. _Allibeth likes Menogeth well enough. She must rise soon, and his rider will once more be good for Igen._

'It is an insult to me - and worse, to my queen!' Crista was working toward screaming pitch, and Sea'n could be glad, at least, that she had simmered without interruption through his short explanation to the Weyr meeting, had followed him to their – to _her_ – weyr to begin her attack upon him. True, everyone would still hear, but now he didn't have to see the reactions - sympathy, embarrassment, possibly also a mostly-concealed glee from those angry with him for leaving, or those less than fond of Crista.

The silence had fallen absolute as he walked into the council already convened to discuss his defection to Telgar. Queen-riders, wing-leaders and seconds, Weyrlingmaster, headwoman, harper and healer - it was a full meeting; a guarded one, too, for Sea'n may be leaving but everyone else would still have to get along with the Weyrwoman. A space was made for him at the long table – he had known he could rely on S'ttan's support, whatever others might think of him. He did not sit, though. This had to be as quick and as clean as he could make it.

With surprise still on his side, he kept his report concise and purely factual. Sammath had insisted they fly to Telgar, to take a part in Frideth's maiden flight. Having won his queen, he wished to be with her, and Sea'n could therefore no longer remain at Igen and must resign. He sincerely thanked riders and weyrfolk alike for their hard work and loyalty to his leadership, regretting that he must leave them and wishing for them everything of the best in the future. He reminded them that a change of leader could happen at any time, and hoped they, at least, would not hold it against him that it was not their senior queen's flight that had brought about this one. He repeated his thanks, apologized that all should be done so hastily, turned and left the room before any could reply.

It had been the best way, for recriminations could serve no purpose and should be aired between only the two of them.

Crista was known through the Weyr for her sharp tongue (_lightly-honeyed vitriol_ said the whisperers) and swift temper, but these had seldom before been directed at Sea'n. He knew from experience, though, that when determined to harangue she would do so to the end, and that the least said on his part really would be soonest—done with, if this could never be truly mended. He listened to the many iniquities he had never suspected himself of having committed amongst those others that he had, and realized that their parting had been inevitable for some time. Though Sammath had wanted no other queen than Allibeth, Crista seemed no longer to want Sea'n in her bed while still, for some reason, jealously guarding her position as his weyrmate.

Sea'n had stretched truth a little in telling Elijah that he and Sammath were used to living with their mates. It had once been entirely so but for some time now, while his dragon chose still to share Allibeth's couch, more often than not Sea'n would sleep on the bed in the record room intended for those who might work late there - from where Sammath had snatched him in the darkness of the previous night.

Crista had come to a standstill before him, her breast still heaving with the effort of delivering so many wounding words. Sea'n was surprised to see tears shining in her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I know I have hurt you and I am truly sorry for that, but we – Sammath and I – we _have_ to go.'

'Go, then,' she said, her voice suddenly thick - harsh as it had not been through all her complaint. 'And much good may you and your _boy_ have of each other!' She pushed past him, out onto the ledge where Allibeth waited, swinging up onto her and away before Sea'n could so much as mention safety straps.

_Allibeth will not let her fall,_ Sammath assured him. _They go now to the shore. She will calm there._

Sea'n hoped that his dragon was right. There was a particular stretch of coast just above Tennat Hold to which Crista had always withdrawn when she needed to find peace after a burst of her famous temper. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply for several minutes.

'Sea'n?' S'ttan's voice from behind the stair curtain. 'Has she really gone?'

'Yes, you're safe to come in!' Sea'n said. S'ttan had always been wary of Crista's wrath - never more so than when she had real reason for her upset - and Sea'n had always found it amusing. And this was the very last time it would happen.

S'ttan pushed through, cups in one hand, a bottle of the best wine that Igen could muster in the other. Whilst he poured for them, Sea'n collected together the last of his belongings and folded them neatly into carrysacs.

'Ah, but where will be safe when you have gone?' S'ttan asked with a wry grin. 'I think the Weyr may be rather quiet for a while, for I doubt I shall be the only one making myself scarce!'

Sea'n gave him a rueful smile. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I know it will be difficult for all of you, and that will be my fault.'

'A change of Weyr will not be easy, either,' S'ttan pointed out. He waited until Sea'n had buckled the last of the sacs, and handed over one of the cups. 'What is he like, Frideth's rider?' he asked, then. 'I have never seen him.'

_He is beautiful_ was Sea'n's first thought, though he could not say such a thing, even to a friend like S'ttan. It was true, but it was not what mattered, was not what Elijah was to him. 'He is…' _He is good to be with, he seems young and yet not, he is strength beyond the ordinary, he feels so right against my skin_… all true and yet saying nothing of what Elijah really _was_. Sea'n shrugged helplessly. 'He is only Elijah,' he said. 'I cannot do him justice in words. You must come to Telgar to meet him and see for yourself.'

'At your invitation, I shall,' S'ttan said, raising the wine in a toast. 'To you and to your Elijah!' He looked at Sea'n for a moment, and added, 'I shall miss you, my friend.'

'I shall miss you,' Sea'n said. 'Ten turns is a long time.'

They had been candidates together, Impressed bronzes of the same clutch, shared weyrling training and their first, terrifying Threadfalls. They had drunk and laughed and played and fought together. The loss of their close companionship was one thing he must truly regret, for it would be impossible to replace. He raised his own cup to salute this friend of friends.

'A long time,' S'ttan echoed. He drank deeply and then turned to Sea'n, his face almost defiant. 'I wish that I had known,' he said.

'Known?'

'That you could love a boy - or perhaps a man.'

Sea'n's mouth fell open in surprise, and S'ttan said sharply, 'Don't do that!'

'What?'

S'ttan sighed. 'No, you have no idea, have you?'

'Of what? S'ttan?'

'Of what you do to me – your mouth, your eyes, the way you… Lots of things, small things you don't even know that you're doing.' He sighed again. 'You have no idea of how much I have wanted you, knowing I could never have you because you only ever courted girls, have only ever mated females. And now I find that not to be true, but I still cannot have you because, once again, you only want your newly won queen-rider.'

Taken aback so completely, Sea'n could only think to say, 'I am sorry. I really did not know.'

'You were not _meant_ to know,' S'ttan said wryly. 'Although, perhaps had I said this before, things might have been different.'

Sea'n shook his head. What he felt for S'ttan had never been, could never be what he felt now for Elijah. And as yet he had only a taste of the pain that S'ttan must have known for turns - but perhaps to share his own plight may be to share the pain a little, too, and neither need be quite so alone in his.

'No,' he said, 'for me there is only Elijah. But we have the same problem now, you and I, for he is no more interested in me than I—' he smiled a little to soften his words, '—than I am in you. Yes, we have mated as we must for Sammath and Frideth, but he made it plain enough afterward that he is a queen-rider by Frideth's choice only, and his own inclination is for girls. But Sammath needs to be with the queen he has won – and I need to be with Elijah, whether or no.'

S'ttan looked at him and then nodded. 'You will find that bitter, my friend. I hope that for you too there may be the consolation of great friendship, for I think you may already have given him your heart.'

Sea'n could not deny it any more than he could explain why his mating with Elijah had felt so right when he had neither done nor wanted that before.

The sadness in S'ttan's voice was for both of them when he asked, 'Sea'n, may I—may I kiss you just once for goodbye?'

Sea'n knew he was asking a lover's kiss, for remembrance. 'Best not,' he said softly. 'Best to part as the friends we have been and will always be.'

S'ttan's head was down, trying to hide the hurt that showed too clearly in his face. Sea'n placed a hand on each shoulder and kissed his brow, already stepping back as he looked up.

'I have loved you as a brother,' Sea'n said, 'and that will never change.'

'Never,' S'ttan echoed quietly, passing a sleeve across his eyes before taking Sea'n's hand and shaking it hard between both of his.

'I shall need those bones unbroken, you know!' Sea'n said mildly.

'Ha!' S'ttan said, with a choked laugh. 'You'll live – you always have! Long and happily, I hope.' He was suddenly quiet.

_We should leave now, Sea'n._

Yes. Did you know?

Zendreth told me, long ago.

And you kept it from me? Sea'n was astonished that his dragon would do such a thing.

_You are true friends. You did not need to know._

No - for the knowing may perhaps have stood between us…

S'ttan reached out a hand, as though he would touch Sea'n's face, then let it drop. 'I love you, Sea'n, and not as a brother.' He drew a deep breath. 'There, I have said it, the once that I needed to. I will never mention it again, I promise.' His attempt at a smile was woeful, but he was trying.

'Come, then – these will not move themselves!' Sea'n said briskly, throwing across one pair of carrysacs and hefting another for himself. Sammath had on the fighting straps already; everything else had fitted easily into these few bags and weighed not much at all, but this would be the very last thing they would share in the life they had shared for so long. S'ttan caught them deftly and they left the weyr together, friends still as they had been through the turns.

In hugs and handshakes and much backslapping Sea'n took his leave of the small crowd of well-wishers in the Bowl, appreciating that the riders present were only those with no fear of reprisal from Crista. Many others had offered a hasty farewell in passing.

S'ttan made fast the sacs to Sammath's harness, still trying for a smile as he jumped down though his eyes were over-bright.

Sea'n took his hand once more. 'May the winds ride always beneath Zendreth's wings, my brother,' he said, with a firm shake. 'We shall meet again soon!'

'Not too soon, though I wish you all joy in your new mating,' S'ttan said quietly, and then, louder, 'and beneath Sammath's! We shall meet again!' He clapped Sea'n on the back one last time, and Sea'n stepped onto Sammath's proffered leg, swinging himself onto the neck-ridge, clipping safety straps securely with a deft touch. One last wave and his well-wishers backed away to allow the downward sweep of wings as Sammath leapt up into the sky.

Sea'n's last sight of Igen Weyr showed him a single figure standing alone in the center of the Bowl.

~~~~\~/~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it increased the reading pleasure of ♥Beloved Beta♥ - to whom I send once more thanks and love beyond measure - I feel that I should share with you also the fact that S'ttan (whose existence came as a total surprise to _me_) is the very image of [ David Tennant](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v603/seerslair/dtrepair.jpg) (10th Dr Who, Barty Phillips Jr), though there was no such _conscious_ intention as he wrote himself into my story!


	5. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _… a scrawny, _naked_ boy in his bed - neither curve nor copper wave to be seen…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can spell guitar but here you will find McCaffrey's version as played on Pern!

Sea'n would come back to him – he had to believe it.

_To us_, Frideth said, _and you should not worry for he will always come back._

How do you know that?

Sammath told me so.

Elijah managed a wry smile. _You would believe Sammath if he told you that the Red Star was no more than a bauble filled with herdbeast blood, wouldn't you?_

Of course not. Now you are being silly - as silly as in thinking that they will not return.

He could _almost_ believe it. Lying here - _moping in the dark_, Meretin would have said - on the bed where Sea'n had taken him, Elijah could almost believe he would return. But Sea'n had gone back to Igen. To _her _\- and they had been weyrmated for so _long_...

Meretin had practically pushed him down the steps, into a cheerful clamor of voices from those already gathered for the evening meal. The noise quieted for a moment or two, heads all across the cavern swiveling to watch them – watch _him_ \- then rose again louder than ever. He began to duck his head thinking this the same looking, from weyrfolk and riders alike, as when first he Impressed Frideth.

An elbow nudged suddenly into his side. 'Hold your head high!' Meretin said. 'You are now a flighted Weyr-rider, weyrmated by the leader of another Weyr after a dragon-mating whose like has not been known in many and many a turn. Every single rider over yonder, queens in especial, must envy you! But if you hide yourself away it will seem that you are ashamed…'

Elijah's chin shot up. He heard Meretin's provocation but could not stop his swift retort. 'Why would I be ashamed of Sea'n or of Sammath?'

'My point exactly!' Meretin said, so smoothly that Elijah couldn't help but grin back at him. 'So keep that proud head up and _smile_ – you have much to smile about.'

'But supposing—' Elijah tried again.

'He will return! Now, eat!' and Meretin pushed him forward to where Lenara was standing.

The Weyrwoman smiled and said something about Frideth's flight, something complimentary, but he missed it in surprise as she took his hand and led him to where a queen-rider table was set apart for just the five of them tonight. He had known that as a fully-flighted rider his own position must change, but the Weyr set little store by status at mealtimes, except on highdays. It was usual for riders to eat in groups of friends or by conversation, not strictly by rank.

Elijah usually ate alongside Meretin, or with harper Carlen whose musical interests coincided with his own. He, too, was a composer and made an interesting dinner companion, both caustic and droll, providing only that his masterwork – upon which he had been engaged for many more turns than Elijah had been at the Weyr – was not claiming his attention at the time. Such snatches as Elijah had been privileged to hear seemed very fine to him, but Carlen was never satisfied, searching always, it seemed, for ever purer musical forms. Elijah suspected that to complete it would actually be a source of great disappointment to him.

As he returned their smiles and took his place, this overt gesture of recognition from his fellow queen-riders spoke of acceptance and even affection. It warmed, a little, the cold place inside where his fear still whispered that Sea'n had left for good. He had expected to feel embarrassed that everyone here – none better than these weyrwomen - knew that Sea'n had mated him when at last Sammath won Frideth, but he realized soon enough that Meretin was right. The looks, and their tactful questions, contained as much of envy – maybe even admiration – of his dragon and possibly himself, as curiosity.

Watching from beneath his lashes, he thought that perhaps, for once and if only through Frideth, he could compete with and even surpass them, for as Meretin had said, her flight was one that would be talked of for many turns to come. He set aside the tiny doubt that her fertility may be lessened because _he_ was not female, and hoped fervently for the generous clutch her flight should have earned. His hope also for a queen egg was mostly that Frideth might show herself _more_ than the equal of her peers - she was the youngest queen, yet had outflown them all, and surely she _deserved_ a daughter? (The small part remaining was akin to a childish putting out of his tongue at every rider here who had expected that a _boy_'s queen would never achieve anything worthy of note - Elijah knew, and still could not regret it.)

Throughout the cavern, the talk was of famous flights from story and song, and from all around he heard speculation over Frideth's clutch. Amid wagers already being hotly placed as to size and balance of colors, there was pride that a Telgar queen should accomplish such a feat. And what _really_ mattered now was that the promised offspring should be many, strong and clever in the fight against Thread. For most riders, of course, a mating of their dragon's choice was simply a part of their lives. It was only because Elijah had not wanted to be _taken_ that her flight had become a thing of dread.

But, when the wine and sweetings were served, and each of the other queen-riders was joined by weyrmate or lover, Elijah really wanted Sea'n there with him, to share what was also a celebration of their dragons' mating flight - and of their weyrmating.

He wanted Sea'n by his side; what he got, when the meal was done, was the harper, who actually left the current revisions to his masterpiece - Elijah saw him shake off the familiar, faraway look as he approached - in order to hear and to record Elijah's remembrance of so long a flight. After the chaos she caused, high above the Weyr, Frideth had led her suitors well beyond the confines of Telgar and higher by far than any human eye could see. Only Elijah or Sea'n could tell how finally Sammath had out-flown and out-witted his queen.

Elijah stared across the cavern, riders and weyrfolk, tables and benches fading all behind him. His mind melted through the vast barriers of leaden rock and soared into air that flowed clear and cold and welcome beneath the wings of his queen. Launching the ribboned chase once more, they exulted together as a dragon-woven sky tied itself in clumsy knots behind them. They left the Weyr, left Pern so far below, diminished to a random scatter of green-brown-white dragged across a field of blue. And still they rose, their pursuers - only the best left in the chase - ceding position one by one until the sky beneath was empty. Higher yet and higher as though to touch the sun… out of whose dazzle Sammath had plunged, swift and cunning, laying claim at last to a prize well-merited, well-won.

Closing his eyes, Elijah remembered the ecstasy Sea'n had given him then – and _that_ he would never share.

'You know, Elijah - you, and not I, should write this,' Carlen said. 'You have the cadences already and the tune is there in your fingers just waiting to be set down. From you it would speak truest.'

There had been time for tuning since Elijah had come to the Weyr, and he had made several new pieces to add to Carlen's store; not for nothing had he been intended for apprentice-composer in the Harper Hall. And all the while his words were telling their flight, his fingers had itched for his gitar to pick out the perfect chords that would underlie the lyric of his tale.

The song may have been dancing in his fingers then, but when he returned to his weyr to sleep – to await Sea'n's return – it escaped his mind completely, lost to the wings of his worry.

It was one thing to decide not to think of it, not to think _at all_ of how Sea'n may take his leave of Crista. Quite another - _moping in the dark,_ here - not to do so.

He knew her by sight, of course. Even an unflighted junior was obliged to attend a certain number of the regular queen-rider meetings. (And no matter how kind most of them tried to be, there was really nothing quite like being the only boy in a gathering of queen-riders to make you feel both immature _and _completely out of place.)

He knew her by sight and she was tall and beautiful; taller than Elijah, taller than Sea'n, and very striking, with green eyes and hair of dark auburn in a heavy braid that stretched well below the level of her hips. Another of the newer riders once asked why she kept it so unusually long. She had smiled slowly and said that the rewards were more than worth the effort of its care. At the time Elijah was young enough to think she meant the reward of looking beautiful. He knew better now, knew too that her smile had been sensuous.

And she had curves – not overly impressive ones, perhaps (and if that was unfair to her, he could not bring himself to care) but far more than Elijah could or ever would boast. In imagination he saw her tempting Sea'n into her bed, those copper-rich waves slipping free from their elegant confinement, rippling low and luxuriant over milk white skin with an artfully scant dusting of small freckles. Dark nipples peeped seductively on firm, high breasts. A perfect thigh, a rounded hip pushed forward through the long and silken curtain... So short a time since such a vision would have tempted _him_!

But now he wanted only to keep his Sea'n from coiling fingers through the sinuous slide of that hair, from using it to tug her playfully toward him; to keep his thumbs from stroking, lightly dragging just so, there, and there - Elijah shivered as his own fingers echoed the thrill of desire that touch had given to him; to keep those generous hands from cupping firm and creamy flesh beneath the satin-smooth curtain, from touching _her_ at all.

Shoving aside the shade of Crista, he slipped within the circle of Sea'n's arms and raised his own face for the kiss she had demanded. His eyes found flames of gold that flickered desire over green as one wide palm tipped his head firmly, gently - a strong thumb caressing his cheek as Sea'n's tongue slid across his lower lip to tease him softly into the kiss. True remembrance might be lost to him then by his own willfulness, but his body memory of Sea'n's kisses was clear enough, sharp and potent. Sea'n's lips trailing sure and skilful over untaught skin that trembled at his touch, Sea'n's hands working a magic he had not known to expect, Sea'n's mouth around him, deep and wet and shocking and—_Oh!_

Elijah drifted slowly back to full wakefulness, then sat up and hurried to clean himself. The last thing he needed was for Sea'n to come back to him, only to find his weyrmate as wanton here as if their mating had not been enough for him - though in truth he thought that he never could have enough of Sea'n now, in memory if not in deed.

He searched his clothes chest for a shirt in which to sleep. He didn't usually bother at all when the weather was warm, but if – _when_ \- Sea'n returned, a scrawny, _naked _boy in his bed - neither curve nor copper wave to be seen – would scarcely make him feel, as Elijah so wanted him to, that this was where he now belonged. He found one that he'd meant to take for mending. It had worn a little thin and was missing half a cuff after a careless drip of agenothree, but weyrling clothes were always made 'to grow into' and he hadn't, really, so it more or less covered the essentials. He looked down at himself, at his legs splayed out on the bed. 'Sturdy' was about the best that could be said of them; they must fall far short of Crista's probable perfection but there wasn't much he could do about it except hope that Sea'n would get used to them. He wriggled beneath the covers, and despite the shirt, despite the fact that he had slept alone for turns now, the bed felt cold and empty.

The Weyr was dark and silent before Elijah heard at last the unmistakable sound of dragon claws scrabbling for purchase on Frideth's ledge. His queen's welcome for her mate was a warmth in his mind, and he lay quiet, wishing for so fond a greeting of his own. But Sea'n slipped silently through the curtain, only a darker shadow moving within the dark. He opened no glowbaskets, and must have the night-eyes of his dragon not to stumble over the clothes Elijah knew he had dropped listlessly by the bed.

A chink of buckles and the single clunk as a boot-heel hit the floor – Sea'n must have caught the other – said that he was undressing. Elijah could not have seen much had he tried, but he regretted that he was now facing away from where Sea'n must be standing. To turn would be to tell Sea'n that he was awake. He wasn't sure why he didn't want Sea'n to know; perhaps because if he knew he was being watched - listened to - he might feel uncomfortable, when Elijah wanted him to feel only that this was, or could become, his home.

He must have seen exactly where Elijah was lying though, for when the bed shifted and Sea'n slid beneath the coverings it was on the side where Elijah was not, and he could have kicked himself for not lying in the middle as he most often did. But that would have been… _impolite_, he thought, and could laugh at himself inside, for thinking it. He had never before believed that a bed could be too large. A narrow weyrling cot all to himself had been a wonderful thing, for he had always shared with his brothers before he came here. The generous size provided in a queen's quarters had seemed sheer luxury when he and Frideth were given this weyr for their own. But now that Sea'n had settled so far from him, this bed was obviously much _too_ big. A few feet less from side to side and he would have more excuse for sleeping close - though he _might_ just roll in his sleep…

He thrashed out an arm and sighed loudly, as though stirring in a dream perhaps, rolling over and wriggling a little, sighing again before lying still. He realized at once that Sea'n lay facing him, for he could feel the cool of breath upon his cheek.

'Elijah?' The barest whisper that he might have missed had not every inch of him been listening.

'Mmmm?' Sleepy and not too eager would be best, he thought excitedly.

'I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you.' Sea'n paused as though he would say more, and Elijah held his breath and waited in hope. But Sea'n only sighed into the silence between them. 'I am sorry,' he said again. 'Please, go back to sleep.' And he turned to face the other way.

Well, _that_ was definitely not supposed to happen - but what else had he expected? Sea'n had only ever mated women before today and had taken Elijah because Sammath's need compelled it, not for sudden love of a boy he had never even properly met. He had asked to weyrmate only because his dragon desired to be with the queen he had won so valiantly. The most Elijah should hope was that Sea'n would help him make of their weyrmating a true friendship; to want anything beyond that that would be unreasonable. Sharing a bed with Sea'n must be no more than sleeping with his brothers - he managed not to laugh aloud at how _unlike_ that would really be, but was immediately sober again. There had been many nights in the cold season, when he and Rial and Jeden would huddle together for warmth. The weather now gave no excuse for snuggling up to Sea'n, but what would happen when icy drafts whined through the weyr, that usually sent him heaping bedclothes up to Frideth on her couch in an attempt to stay warm? He sighed quietly. It made no sense to worry about that yet, for he had no idea whether Sea'n would want to stay with him so long.

He looked at the solid bump of darkness in the bed beside him. To 'accidentally' roll closer still would be even more _impolite_ – blatant, like a bitch in heat, and Elijah had more pride than that. _That_ was not what he needed, anyway. He simply wanted Sea'n to hold him as a lover might, for closeness and for comfort - and because their dragons lay curled together so.

How could he sleep now, with someone in his bed at last when he had been lonely for so long? When he had learned already what it could be like to find pleasure with this man… to fall in love with him? When he knew he was so very much _not_ what Sea'n must want?

~~~~\~/~~~~


	6. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…a leader who threw away a Weyr to indulge his dragon's lust…_

It was interesting – sometimes even amusing, Sea'n thought, though he was careful never to let that show - to compare the ways in which the riders of his new Weyr reacted to him. A second Weyrleader at Telgar – and even if _he_ wasn't any longer, Sammath was undefeated here – had affected every one of them in some way, it seemed, if only in stirring their curiosity. None was sure at first quite how to treat him.

Well, it had never happened before, had it? It was remarkable enough for a bronze to move to another Weyr when his dragon had won one of its queens in an open flight. It was unheard of for a Weyrleader to give up his Weyr so that his dragon may weyrmate the most junior queen of hers - and unique for that queen's rider to be male. Little wonder, then, that riders would take time to adjust to his presence – he was a long way from settled yet, himself. Setting aside that he no longer led, the differences between the two Weyrs were fewer than he'd expected – the places were at least similar, after all, and their purpose was the same. But it was the myriad other things he couldn't know - minor differences in the ways that things were done here, that came unusual to him, yet Telgar riders took for granted - that pointed the strangeness of his move. Without Elijah's tactful guidance it would have taken him far longer to fit in.

He found few problems with blue- or brown-riders. Once they had seen him command the wing K'vret had allotted to him they accepted him as competent, and really, that was what they needed of him. And hadn't _that_ made a few of the bronze-riders sit up, when he replaced the previous leader! T'dray was apparently injured in the last fall but three before Frideth's flight, and the wing had been struggling on under his second (who _might_ actually make a leader one day - when eggs laid themselves).

Before he'd been in charge a full sevenday, Sea'n had drilled his riders to their limits and then beyond, to his - and it had been worth it. At first, almost sullenly, they wanted only to prove their skills at least as good as those at Igen. But Sea'n's enthusiasm and leadership had improved the whole formation of their flight – they were tighter in the air, smarter, wheeling and diving as one. They _looked_ better able to face Thread, now – and they knew it, and were.

His riders then began a mostly friendly taunting of other wings with the new proficiency of their own, and the rivalry proved a Weyr-wide challenge. Sea'n was not the only one to notice the number of casualties reducing overall, with fewer by far of the minor injuries that resulted from careless riding more than from the dangers of Thread. For K'vret too, that was of greater account than how or why Sea'n came to be here and whether his weyrmate was female or male.

Sea'n gave the Weyrleader full credit for his acceptance, when he might instead have felt threatened, or have believed, perhaps, that Sammath would one day rival Geneth for his queen - and win. He could have made Sea'n's life most difficult, but seemingly he was clever enough – whatever he may think of a leader who threw away a Weyr to indulge his dragon's lust – to _use_ Sea'n's expertise instead of wasting time resenting it as Sea'n had half-imagined he would. There were meetings both planned and impromptu, some between only the two of them, others open to any rider who might wish to take part; lengthy discussions on the distribution and timing of thread; on extensive versus intensive deployment of riders, and on tactics in general – with post-fall analyses, of course. These were apt to spill over into mealtimes and annoy the cooks and Candessa too, though an apologetic smile and a promise to do better went a long way to soothing her ire, Sea'n found.

Bronze-riders had taken longer to bring around than the other colors - but then, Sammath had outflown all of them bar one and that, from an outsider, was bound to rankle for a while. (Sea'n thanked the First Egg that Geneth had been absent from Frideth's flight - saving face for K'vret though he might never admit to it.) Those in his own wing had not held out beyond the first few drills, the dragons readily accepting Sammath's lead, their riders admitting that Sea'n's approach to flying really did improve their skills. Those from other wings had relented as the Weyr's performance in Threadfall had so obviously improved.

He knew that there must be some who held to a tacit resentment on behalf of dragon and Weyr - and maybe also others for the rider he had won. Sea'n was constantly aware of his weyrmate, learning him – his interests, his moods, his needs – that he might be a better friend if he could be nothing more. He was aware also of others who watched Elijah - and in more than one face turned toward him, Sea'n saw desire, fleeting and concealed maybe, but desire none the less. He was not the only one, it seemed, in whom Frideth's flight had roused feelings beyond a mating-lust. He could only hope that, in them, resentment and desire both would fade for lack of matter on which to feed, for Elijah returned no looks – from male or from female, for that matter - in anything but friendship. Sea'n knew already that Sammath would allow no dragon to outfly him whilst he had Frideth's favor still - and that his own desire for, his love of Elijah would never leave him.

Each of the weyrwomen was as gracious to him as if he were still a Weyrleader, and his Elijah was accepted in their ranks as a fully-flighted rider, which was all that Sea'n really needed of them. But, on the other hand_…_

I rather think that two of them at least may expect you to fly for their queens when next they rise!

Sammath's amusement rumbled quietly in his mind. _They will know the error of such thinking, soon enough._

The greens and their riders, though – both male and female – they definitely made Sea'n uneasy. Full of respect, of course, oh yes - but a little over-friendly, with a distinctly more _inviting_ edge to the usual hint of coquettishness…

Breakfast on his second morning at Telgar was a very different meal from the one he had enjoyed with Elijah alone, that had felt so intimate despite the background bustle of baking. Sitting together at table now, the bustle was far louder, coming from all the other riders of the Weyr. Many of them made a point of coming to introduce themselves, none with more in mind than a polite curiosity, Sea'n had assumed at first.

Elijah sat across the table from him, eating oatmeal and supplying names for riders who looked to him for introduction, or simply listening with a smile if they spoke first to Sea'n, and finding tactful ways to add anything he thought it might help Sea'n to know. It would be thanks to Elijah, Sea'n thought, if he actually remembered half the endless roll of names.

''Good morning! I am L'grat, Sea'n, and my bronze is Segoneth.' L'grat was a cheerful man with a receding hairline who didn't look to be much older than Sea'n.

'This is Darial, Sea'n – she rides green Tabrath.' Darial stammered out a greeting of her own and pecked a quick kiss to his cheek before hurrying off to where a huddle of green-rider girls sat together, watching and giggling. Sea'n didn't need Elijah to tell him that Darial was a little shy of strangers, but was surprised to learn that she was a bold and courageous fighter of Thread.

'Welcome, Sea'n – F'mir, blue Maruth's rider!' A tall and gangly lad, too young and keen to have been a rider for more than a turn or two, he thought, and Elijah confirmed that Maruth was from the same clutch as Frideth.

'Welcome to Telgar, Sea'n. I hope you remember me? Riana - I ride Belteth. This is my weyrmate, A'sren, whose bronze is Katenith.' A'sren's greeting was a bit subdued, Sea'n thought, and the weyrwoman rather less than pleased with her mate at the moment, though she gave Elijah an understanding smile that - to Sea'n at least - said, _'Not your fault, dear!'_

_His rider is embarrassed for Katenith,_ Sammath observed smugly. _Frideth deceived him finely above the Weyr and he almost strained a wing to avoid collision_. Sea'n tactfully buried his sudden grin in the nearest mug of klah.

He noticed at once when, not long after, the spoon in Elijah's hand stilled and dropped back into the bowl. Something very like the shadow of fear crossed his face and he looked down quickly, dragging in a sharp breath then releasing it slowly as he raised his eyes again to meet Sea'n's. Sea'n could only offer a reassuring smile, knowing that someone was approaching from behind him and that Elijah was wary of whoever it might be – or _had_ been so, for he managed a small smile of his own then, and the tension in his face slowly eased into what Sea'n hoped was relief. He picked up his spoon once more, attention all on the oatmeal, now.

Even though he was expecting it, the voice was loud and hearty and made Sea'n start a little. 'B'ratal, Sea'n! My Tennoth gave Sammath his longest challenge!'

Sea'n turned in his seat to see a heavy-set, red-faced rider with a swagger that he could not like and a handclasp that really did not know its own blunt strength. B'ratal was friendly enough in his defeat, but as Sea'n returned the greeting his skin crawled a little at the thought that, had Sammath not brought them to Telgar, Tennoth would have won Frideth, won Elijah for this man...

Reason enough, then - beyond any preference for girls - for Elijah to have a real fear of Frideth's flight and mating. Sea'n realized, with a relief of his own, that Elijah could not smile at him that way – with friendship and in trust – if he feared Sea'n's touch as he so clearly had B'ratal's. There was comfort, too, in Sammath's conviction that Elijah had found some pleasure with him; he had been able to give Elijah that, despite his fear.

'Elijah, Sea'n.' B'ratal nodded to each of them and moved quickly on as another rider stepped up to take his turn. Elijah had given back the nod almost naturally, Sea'n thought – showing his quiet strength once more. And this new rider, at least, would hold no danger for him at all.

'Hello, Sea'n, I'm Pr'len and I ride green Litanith...'

Pr'len was only the first of many riders whose dragon's color Sea'n knew before it was told - from the slide of voice, warm and knowing, from the not-quite flutter of lashes – _not-quite_, he suspected, only because Elijah was sitting right there – and the lingering clasp of the handshake.

So it went on, both through the meal and after, over more klah - for it was easiest, Elijah said, to let them come meet Sea'n; any who missed they could seek out later. And come forward they did, riders of all colors, but with what felt to Sea'n, at least, to be a surely unnecessary preponderance of green. From every single one of them, female and male alike, the suggestion was there, covert to greater or lesser degree but there just the same, that Sea'n could rest assured of a welcome far _friendlier_ when next the dragon in question rose to mate.

It was a good few turns since a green had bothered to curvet flirtatiously at Sammath, or her rider to cast more discreetly flirtatious eyes at his. At Igen, it had been too well known that neither Sea'n nor his dragon showed interest in other females for any to waste serious time on them; male riders had scarcely looked at all. But here, with a changed allegiance and Elijah as weyrmate, it seemed that every green-rider considered the effort may be well worth the while.

Elijah's patience with them lasted a remarkably long time, Sea'n thought. It was an accepted fact that the bronze of a weyrmated pair might fly a green or two should he choose, but for so many almost-invitations to be extended with the queen's rider right there, bordered on _impolite_, if nothing more. He could practically feel irritation rise in Elijah with each green-rider's half-flirtatious greeting, with every meaningful gaze. Sea'n wanted so much to tell him, 'Sammath would not do such a thing to Frideth, and I will never do that to you,' but this was neither time nor place.

As the number of riders left in the cavern thinned at last so, it seemed, did Elijah's patience, and he rose decisively from the table. 'Come,' he said, his voice rather brittle, 'for I doubt you could remember a single name more - your mind must be awhirl already!'

'Thank you!' Sea'n said, and truly meant it. He had begun to think that he might himself become _impolite_ if he received just one more come-hither glance this morning.

'We should fly, to clear your head and make a start on showing to you and Sammath Telgar's landmarks and the spread of holds we cover in Fall.' He was partway to the stairs, Sea'n at his heels, before another rider could approach them with more in mind than a cordial welcome.

Frideth was not flirtatious, only loving, and Sammath's contentment bled through into Sea'n until he found himself needing to conceal a ridiculous envy of his dragon's satisfaction with his queen.

He wanted Elijah more with every day.

Over and again he lived his memory of making hurried love to him before Sammath could catch Frideth. That he had never mated a male - had never thought he _could_ \- faded to nothing before the sensation of Elijah in his arms. He may have refused Sea'n's kiss, but his body had offered itself so freely that Sea'n could almost believe their mating to be as much his desire as Frideth's – perhaps even as much as Sea'n's own, that increased with every inch of him revealed in haste, with every touch he laid upon Elijah's skin, smooth and supple beneath his fingers.

Sea'n needed him open and willing lest he be hurt, and understood full well the gift of pleasure that a ready mouth and clever tongue could bring, no matter the giver. Gladly he gave to his Elijah everything he knew to give, so that their mating might be remembered for its pleasure and not its pain.

Elijah's response – shocked and eager and urgent all at once - told clearly that no-one had done such a thing for him before - much less had he done it himself, though he was not as young as Sea'n had thought. Past eighteen turns, so Candessa said, and although weyrlings were not fostered as weyrbrats were, she had adopted him for her own and so would know.

No-one had done that for Sea'n, before Crista. She was older and more practiced than he in the ways of loving. He remembered his surprise the first time, not many days after Sammath had won Allibeth. Crista hung the riding strap for all to see and then tugged him to the bed and pushed him down, insisting that this was only for him. Slowly she removed his clothes, kindling him to lust with a slide of fingers, then stood to shrug from her gown and loose her crowning braid, with a shake of her head to spread the shimmering curtain all about her. She arranged herself, then, across his thighs and skimmed his body with her mouth and the satin of her hair – both long and slowly, until his breath hitched tightly, craving his release. Still she made him wait, teasing, stroking with hands and seeking fingers, before she bowed her head and—

He gasped and looked down. Where his own hand worked fast and wildly, he saw instead a rosy mouth hovering tentatively over him, a shy pink tongue sliding wet across lips that were dry and hesitant; taking courage then to flicker over desperate skin, circling with growing confidence, trying, testing, and soon enough tormenting… Unable longer to contain his want, Sea'n groaned aloud - and blue fire flashed bright between thick lashes, decision swiftly, willingly made. A tease of darkly silken curls brushed across his belly as the head bent forward and Elijah took him in…

Sea'n saw him then as he had been, strong in control of Frideth before her need had overtaken both, and wondered if - queen apart, in time, and with the right incentive - he might one day prove an assertive lover. He stilled suddenly at the thought - fiercely arousing in its delicious implication and its promise, every bit as seductive as his memory of Elijah naked and defenseless beneath him – and shuddered, gasping, into completion.

Almost every morning began this way, now. From the first, despite his days being long and full with new acquaintances and drills and Weyr landmarks to learn, Sea'n slept only by fits and snatches, his mind busy with so much - and overriding all, his memory of their loving.

As darkness began to thin toward day – a queen's weyr had always a window onto the Bowl - he would raise himself cautiously on one elbow to look at Elijah, sprawled coltishly across the bed. A good thing then, in that way at least, that it was so wide, or Sea'n might have fallen out this side and had to slide back in the other. Either that, or he would have fallen much further - into the temptation of Elijah's nearness and the desire that never left him, to gather Elijah close into his arms. At first only to hold, to breathe the scent of him, to kiss as he had wanted to before, lingering kisses to learn the contours of his love, but soon enough to make slow love to him and bring delight for both of them…

Sometimes he could lie long minutes, simply watching, resisting the urge to touch, remembering that quietly sleeping body when it had been eager and responsive beneath his own. At others he must rise almost at once and bring himself to the bathing room lest Elijah should wake to find his weyrmate sticky and sated there beside him, still needing what he knew he could not have – not until Frideth rose again.

After their mating, he thanked Sea'n for his care and said he was unhurt – Sea'n found no trace of blood where they had lain, yet still he had worried - but he had not mentioned pleasure in their mating. (Perhaps a male would not? Sea'n had no way of knowing.) He had enjoyed the release - twice, as Sea'n remembered well - but what lad of eighteen turns would not, in the heat and passion of a mating flight?

Perversely, this mating had taught Sea'n how great was the difference between release and fulfillment. Between what was purely physical and the bonding he had felt when something within him reached out to the same within Elijah. For him it was more than simply the love their dragons had found for each other; there was joy in the possession that he had never known before - though it seemed not so for Elijah.

His could never be the incentive that Elijah needed.

His stilted shyness, not just his words, told Sea'n plainly that he was used to girls - just as Sea'n had been at his age – had been always, until Elijah. He had not chosen to ride a queen. As a harper, had he never Impressed, he would probably have espoused a nice girl and raised a family of his own. Had he ridden bronze instead, his dragon might have flown many queens and maybe he would have weyrmated with one of their riders - just as Sea'n had done, until his certainties burned all away in the heat of Elijah's body.

At least if he could not be wholly Sea'n's he was not anyone else's either, for he had accepted Sea'n as his weyrmate, and not a 'nice girl'. A girl living in the queen's weyr who was not the queen's rider would certainly have been unique - but Elijah _was_ unique. Perhaps his very difference had kept girls from daring to approach him in the past - but now that he was becoming so much his own young man it could not be long before they realized their mistake. Certainly he was beautiful enough to attract - to match with - any girl on Pern.

Sea'n had not seen him look at any girl as though he might regret his choice of mate already. Not yet. And if ever he did… Well, that was an egg to hatch another day, and Sea'n would not go Searching it before its time.

It was Candessa, of course, who told him just how much Elijah had changed since Sammath brought them to Telgar. She had watched Sea'n carefully at first but had soon taken him beneath her wing – probably because Elijah was already there. In his slyly witty, charming weyrmate, who made sure that he met every rider and all of the weyrfolk from harper Carlen to the lowliest drudge; who took upon himself the critical task of making sure that Sea'n and Sammath could recognize every essential landmark in the vast area under the Weyr's protection; who guided him safely around every possible pitfall that may await him here, Sea'n saw no trace of the diffident, self-effacing lad Candessa had described.

She had pinched his cheek then, as though he were as much fosterling as bronze-rider. 'It is good for Elijah to have a friend!' she said, and winked.

A true friendship with Elijah would be a wonderful gift if Sea'n could not have what he truly wanted of him, knowing already from S'ttan that such a thing was possible, no matter the hurt. He was slowly finding other, lesser friends amongst the many acquaintances he had made here. He was accepted widely if not yet completely, and his dragon was more than content. It would - it must - be enough.

And if none of them could understand why he should be here at all - well, Sea'n had no better idea than they, only a profound gratitude that Sammath had brought him to Telgar, had given him Elijah. He trusted to his dragon's certainty that they would be needed one day, and set aside the puzzle; like any egg it would crack in its own good time, but the better without his brooding.

~~~~\~/~~~~


	7. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…to be deceiving him, conniving … behind Sea'n's back…_

Of all the sevendays he had lived at Telgar, these few since Frideth's flight were unlike any Elijah had known. Sea'n had asked for help in learning his new Weyr, and he had done his best, not liking to tell him that, before Sea'n's arrival, he was himself more likely to be tucked away somewhere, quietly observing, than actually mixing with riders and weyrfolk.

Not that Sea'n had much need of assistance, for his smile - the crinkle-eyed smile that could turn Elijah's insides all topsy-turvy in an instant – and the way he had of listening, of giving full attention to whatever one may have to say, were too friendly for most riders to resist. Their weyr began to be busy with people, riders from Sea'n's own wing visiting first, others not far behind. They came with questions, perhaps, but stayed for discussion, for games of chance or pleasant evenings when Elijah would bring out his gitar. He found himself enjoying the company as he had forgotten that he could – but occasionally he would look across to see Sea'n talking, listening, animated and cheerful, and he would wish that from time to time it might be just the two of them companionably together there.

Never since Frideth's flight had they needed privacy – not all night long, let alone at any other time. Never had Elijah needed to hang the riding strap across the outer curtain - the accepted signal that a weyr's owner did not wish to be disturbed, most often used when a pair wished time alone for loving. He could admit to himself that he really wanted to do that, too. He did not only want – quite desperately want – Sea'n to make love to him again. He wanted others to know that, for all his difference, Sea'n could find him desirable beyond his dragon's need.

Since their mating, they had slept in the same bed each night, had spent much of their waking time together – and Sea'n had not laid so much as a deliberate finger upon him. Not a finger, not even a hand clapped to his back in the kind of friendly gesture he would share so readily with his riders. Sea'n smiled and laughed and lived with him, was attentive as any friend could be, saving only in this one thing. It was so frustrating that Elijah sometimes felt like crying out, 'Can you not bear to touch me unless Sammath gives you no option?'

He would not, of course, for he stood to lose too much. Their friendship was a precious thing he would not cast away by demanding what Sea'n could not give. But it was such a _long_ time until Frideth's next flight…

How ironic, that what had been his greatest dread should have become his dearest wish. He could no longer even think of her last flight as a mating only, much less as a gentle rape. In one way at least, what Sea'n had done had truly been making love. He had made Elijah fall in love with him - and that featherlight tingle at the back of his mind that had said, _wait_, and _not yet_, and _soon_, was gone, had vanished completely with the coming of Sea'n into his life.

And how sad that he had begun to think once more of salving himself in readiness, should Sea'n just want to take him quickly, for release, as he must surely need so many sevendays after their mating. He would have liked to leave in place the covered pot that had stood ready at his bedside a cautious while before Frideth flew. But that would have been to force its notice upon Sea'n, who would probably prefer to forget the reason it had been there at all. Elijah had removed it to the bath side – not so far, after all, were they to need it. There would be time for that, his hope said, (_and perhaps for kisses, too?_) in a joining that was not dragon-led. For himself, he thought it fortunate that Sea'n seemed always an early riser, away for breakfast by the time Elijah woke and needed the privacy of the bathing room, where evidence swirled away so readily. Most often though, when he wandered down to breakfast himself, he would find Sea'n chatting over a mug of klah with whoever was there, not eating until they could do so together. (Elijah was somewhat careful, these days, in the matter of toast; the temptation of butter glistening on those long fingers was almost too much, now he had known their touch upon his skin.)

He could not help the jealousy.

He could only watch through veiling lashes as one green-rider after another made a not-so-subtle play for Sea'n. In a fleeting, rueful thought he wondered if his eyes might take the color of their dragons, and put him on level ground with Crista for that, at least. Pride kept him from snapping at the males that they had as little chance as he, but still he watched them as carefully as the girls. But, for all that he might need release, Sea'n was both constant and deft in diverting an almost-flirt into a serious conversation, thereby completely deflecting a rider's intention. Gently seductive smiles and not-quite-casual touches worked no better for any, male or female, than they would for Elijah. Most reassuring of all was Sammath, for no matter which green rose to mate, not so much as an eyelid twitched, wherever he perched or flew, or dozed upon their ledge, his queen beside him always.

Nor did Sea'n pay the slightest attention to any other female in the Weyr, though Jendria, rider of gold Malanath, the queen next in seniority after Conireth, had made her interest perfectly clear. (Elijah had not precisely _meant_ to eavesdrop, but had not resisted the urge to listen, knowing that neither could see him at the time.) Jendria was good company, almost a friend. She was blonde, was funny and delicate and pretty, was more of Sea'n's age - and _female_. If Sammath insisted he must fly _her_ queen, would Sea'n be glad of his escape? But then Sea'n lightly turned her pointed words, had turned refusal to a compliment; though with humor and a gentleness that Jendria could not resent, it was refusal nonetheless.

Elijah's relief was great - but more heartfelt still when, ten sevendays later, Frideth and the other queens must leave the Weyr because Malanath swooped to blood her kill. Sea'n's haste then was not to Jendria's weyr to wait out the flight in the circle of riders gathered there, but to Frideth's with Elijah, for their riding gear. They had spoken earlier of a visit to the Harper Hall to collect music that Carlen was promised, that Elijah wanted to play; to go now was to make good use of a necessary retreat. Their two dragons rose high above the Weyr and dipped side by side into _between_, leaving the skies above Telgar to Malanath and the bronzes that would fly for her. And within Elijah, the tension eased, unraveling the edges of a painful knot hitched tightly always, somewhere deep inside. Though he knew too well of Sea'n's faithfulness to Crista, Sammath's to Allibeth, he had not dared hope it for himself and Frideth - not when he could not be for Sea'n all that Crista had been.

Though some indefinable distance seemed always to lie between their riders, the dragon pair grew closer every day as Frideth's belly developed the rippling curves that promised a clutch of many eggs. Elijah found Sammath's proprietary pride in his mate as touching as it was amusing. _(You are laughing at us? No, Frideth dear, just happy for you!)_ She was retired from the queens' wing during Threadfall now, and Elijah was busy instead working with Meretin and his team of helpers, to prepare for and treat injured dragons and riders. He had still more than enough time to worry as he never had when he too was fighting Thread.

It was the only time he allowed himself to break his rule about really _listening_ for Sammath.

In the first, awkward conversation after Frideth's flight, one thing upon which he and Sea'n had agreed was that neither understood just why Sammath had been convinced he must fly Elijah's queen.

I_ know. It is enough._

Sea'n laughed then, relaying the comment to him, and Elijah had simply nodded.

Sammath's voice had felt so warm, even familiar, in his mind that he had not remarked it for the momentous occurrence that it was, too busy with his own thoughts of the flight, of their mating and how soon Sea'n must leave him and go back to— to Igen. Overwhelmed by the new feelings Sea'n had given him, he had not paused then to consider what hearing Sammath might mean.

He knew that, in theory, a dragon _could_ speak directly to anyone, rider or not - because he or she chose to, or if necessity compelled. It was as rare, though, as a willingness to use the name of anyone but his or her own rider. For a rider to hear other dragons as a matter of course was rarer still and, so the records told, an ability confined to only a few queen-riders in their history – Sorka the first and most famous. But she had heard all others of that first hatching; Elijah could hear only Frideth and Sammath, and he knew this to be a tremendous compliment from the bronze – full acceptance of him as rider of the queen to whom Sammath was devoted.

Since then he had tried hard not to hear on purpose - suspecting anyway that he would not hear anything Sammath really did not want him to. But he had heard much, had come to appreciate Sammath's steadiness and a certain wry sense of humor which would have surprised those who believed dragons to have only a limited understanding of such things.

But during Threadfall he listened with a will, to know how fall was progressing, and especially if S—if there may be casualties amongst Sea'n's wing.

Across the floor of the Bowl, the weyrfolk readied supplies of dressings and copious amounts of numbweed – not only pots but tubs full, with brooms to apply it should a dragon come home injured. They laid out bowls of the redthorn tincture that kept a healer's hands from numbing too, alongside the thread and canvas and needles that were such blunt weapons in a fight to remake the burnt and tattered remnants of fragile dragon wings. Every person busy here was yet silently wishing the labor might be in vain, that they would need none of the things they were gathering - though as ever, they spoke of other matters, lightly and with humor, even. Elijah realized then that, although there remained an underlying tension to the voices all around him, there seemed no longer the high anxiety he remembered.

'We have your Sea'n to thank for that,' Candessa said seriously, when he said as much to her.

Elijah remembered Sea'n's satisfaction that the riders of his wing had tightened their flying, and his pleasure in the improvement of their fighting skills. He knew, too, that they had set themselves up as both challenge and example to all others in the Weyr. While he was still flying Thread with Frideth, he had been too busy with his flamethrower on the queens' level to really notice any great effect for himself. There had perhaps been less of Thread to chase, and certainly burrows were fewer than he could remember before - and when he returned to the Weyr, sweaty, tired and thirsty, there had seemed no need for extra hands amongst the wounded to keep him longer from a bath, a mug of klah and rest before a meal.

'Our riders had become complacent, a little careless in fact, without even K'vret really noticing it. Too many of the injuries we had to treat were ones that might have been avoided and were not. Sea'n's coming here pricked their self-respect and made them see it. And his enthusiasm,' there were grins from the many who were listening, for Sea'n didn't just talk up a storm, he could stir one too, when needed, 'was exactly right to push them into action. So, better riding, fewer injuries, less suffering - a respite welcome to those of us who have to deal with it, too.'

Vicarious pride in his weyrmate swelled in Elijah's chest as Candessa patted his cheek and said, 'He is a good man.'

A good man, a good leader, taking his riders forward into a danger they all must meet... It was stupid to feel a prickle of tears, but he did.

Elijah's hands worked on seemingly by themselves as his mind was carried aloft with Sammath. They burst from black _between_ into brilliant sunlight, a silver curtain glinting wide across the sky before them, terrifying in its implacable advance. Were it not for dragonkind, that shimmering beauty would bring only death - from swift, excruciating burn or lingering starvation, but death for certain - to the ordinary folk of Pern. Elijah looked with pride upon the broad and steadfast ranks of their defense, stretched out on either wing. The sight was strange to him from this new angle, the flare of anticipatory fire stranger still as each dragon breathed his eagerness to attack, to destroy the invasion of deadly rain. He heard Sammath's hurried colloquy with Sea'n, their rapid assessment of the nature of this Fall, and the final directions to the dragons of their wing. Then the tension of first approach resolved to fierce defiance as he relayed Geneth's signal to advance - and Thread was engaged at last.

Sammath's breath blazed loud before Elijah's eyes, and everywhere was flame and sky and Thread and black _between_, and sky and flame and Thread once more. The battle raged bright and fast in a blur of many-colored images: formation broke to blue and brown and bronze, swooping high or diving low but spattered always with the flare of orange-red and the constant dart of nimbler green, while far below the glint of gold brought more familiar fire to catch whatever motes were missed. But little enough escaped the searing onslaught, where silver death dissolved to smoky char-dust, swirling thick upon the air.

Piecemeal but with one determination, Telgar's dragons flew ever on against their mindless enemy, as implacable in its destruction as the rain of Thread in theirs. And through Sammath's eyes, Elijah learned here a Fall completely different from the one he knew: flaming dragon, high and brave and vulnerable, not flame-throwing rider, the precious queen protected on a lower level that enabled yet their will to fight.

He watched in wonder and awe the courage of rider and dragon alike, flinching with each pair that blinked from sight; most often a mere skip to avoid a too-close tangle - but sometimes a necessary jump for _between _to freeze strands of white-hot agony from either, or from both. He breathed freely again only when they reappeared to flame once more. From every side, above the roar of flame, came cries of defiance, of encouragement, of triumph - and sometimes of pain. Unfaltering over all cut Sammath's voice, calm and steady as he directed his warriors, returning replies to Sea'n, passing quick commands to chase or to avoid as need compelled. And Elijah listened, always waiting, fearing the sudden mind-shout that would signal injury to Sea'n or to Sammath. It had not happened (_not yet…_) but he was able several times to warn of dragons bringing home hurt riders. If Meretin and his teams of weyrfolk and apprentices assumed that his knowledge came only from Frideth, it was no matter; between the two his knowing meant that the right help was waiting, exactly where and when the injured pair would need it most on landing.

Elijah never spoke directly to Sammath's mind, didn't know if the bronze would hear him, though he thought his gratitude in a broad, unfocused way. But Sea'n could have no idea that Elijah was listening to his dragon, or he would have said so. Elijah was deceiving him - conniving with Sammath behind Sea'n's back though with the best of motives only. Would Sea'n ask his dragon not to do this for him, if he knew? Elijah was not prepared to take that risk. For so long as Sammath would keep him informed, would prove for him Sea'n's safety, he would keep the secret. It was deceitful enough to keep from Sea'n the fact that he could hear; to _speak_ to Sammath too would somehow feel a betrayal too far.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

The day dawned fine and warm, and there were three full Threadfree days for all to enjoy – reasons enough to attend the Gather at Fort Hold. Almost everyone who could be spared from the Weyr and could beg a dragon-ride would be going, Meretin amongst them. He had delayed a necessary visit to his Hall in order to enjoy this gather along the way, and Elijah had offered to take him on Frideth. He was fully sensible of the honor, for this might well be Elijah's last flight of her for a while; she was egg-heavy already and would not fly much longer before she clutched.

Fort Hold looked particularly welcoming, Meretin thought, daring to open his eyes at last as the queen swooped out of _between_ and along the Heights, down toward the landing field. There was a sharp breeze up at cliff level where the gather banner snapped briskly in the sunlight. He hoped it would be less so on the ground, for his eyes were already watering from the cold air. Dust in them too would be painful and would probably streak his face with a fine coating of mud. For Elijah that might well constitute disaster, and his best tunic – beneath the wher-hide jacket to which Meretin was clinging for dear life, despite the straps buckled tight as tight could be – Elijah's tunic was a deep wine-red on which swirls of dust would show badly once the riding jacket was off.

He knew perfectly well why that would matter so much today of all days, why Elijah was desperate to look his best, though normally he never bothered much over what he wore. He rather thought that Candessa did too, for she had stopped them to say goodbye and patted Elijah into place here and there before pinching his cheek and telling him not to worry, that the color became him like no other, lighting his eyes so well that no-one could resist him. A swift glance to where Sea'n was waiting and a wink back to Elijah were proof enough that she knew.

She was – they both were - right, of course: Weyrwoman Crista would not fail to attend this gather. It would be the first meeting between the two since Sea'n resigned his Weyr, and Elijah's confidence needed all the help that it could get.

And, thankfully for the moment - though Meretin suspected he would regret his thanks once noon was past - there was no breeze at all down here, only the hot sun baking up from the ground at them. The two dragons had waited until their passengers had walked well clear before taking off for the Heights, he suspected by request. Shaking off his own jacket, he fell behind Sea'n and Elijah and thus caught the beginnings of a movement Elijah probably hadn't realized he was making until he checked it abruptly; as he walked at Sea'n's side, his hand had reached out of itself. It dropped as quickly, and Meretin knew that Sea'n would not even have noticed, for Fort's Lord Holder called a greeting as he approached and Sea'n's attention was on him.

Meretin sighed. Many riders might walk together handfast here today – those who were true weyrmates. But not this pair who believed themselves bound only by their dragons' open adoration of each other. Meretin was convinced otherwise, but Elijah kept his own counsel close these days, and he didn't feel he knew Sea'n well enough yet to broach the matter with him.

It was customary courtesy to offer to a queen-rider a room in which she might change into a gown, but Lord Teragon instead brought drudges to relieve them of their riding gear, and an offer of wine to clear the wind of flight from their throats.

Meretin watched Elijah's acceptance – just a little diffident still, for he was not yet wholly at ease with the fact of his own high rank even amongst such notables, though it was coming. But he had already grown to enjoy being abroad in Sea'n's company. They made a good pair – not striking in the way that Sea'n and Crista together had been, perhaps – but _right_ somehow, a pair that looked to belong together. If they would only bring themselves to believe it, he thought, a little impatiently, unable to understand what was taking them so long when Elijah was clearly lost to love and Sea'n had chosen him above all others, Sammath's preference apart.

That others had tried for Sea'n's notice, Meretin knew. Though nothing had been said, of course, he knew that Jendria had been most disappointed that Sammath had not risen for her queen. He knew too that Malanath's flight had been low and short when compared with Frideth's, that her clutch must be small and without even the hope of a queen egg. There had been none since Frideth herself was hatched, and wagers were laid from the first on the size and distribution of the offspring from her own momentous flight. The odds on a gold were very short but he had staked a whole mark upon it with complete confidence.

Green-rider interest, from both male and female, had been more obvious for they were far more numerous. There was a definite rivalry amongst them - mostly subtle but still noticeable if you had a perceptive eye and a care for one, if not both, of those most concerned - to see who might attract and hold the attention of rider or dragon. Frideth's mating had assumed legendary proportions already, and every green was hoping for a taste of Sammath's prowess – and her rider of Sea'n's.

To Meretin's relief it was unlikely that either would get any such thing. Relief, because he suspected that would indeed break Elijah's heart. Sammath remained besotted by his queen, Frideth was at least as fond, and Elijah was…

Elijah was so different, now. The change in him certainly justified a green-rider belief in the magic of Sea'n's touch. There was barely a trace left of the self-effacing lad who spent almost all his free time in the record room or quietly alone with his queen and his gitar for company. This Elijah chatted freely at meal times and remained after, to share the singing with Carlen, laughing at Sea'n's apology for his mauling of a tune, and smiling more in those few hours than Meretin would see in a sevenday, before this. With his new and growing confidence, he and Sea'n hosted companionable evenings in their weyr, with many visitors, much conversation and some music. Quietly studious Elijah played truant at last from his self-imposed learning, allowing no-one else to guide Sea'n from end to end of the lands his new Weyr protected. And he had taken Sea'n to visit his family's hold; this time there had been no red-rimmed morning eyes for many days after.

Meretin realized that this was how Elijah must have been had he stayed in that hold, or even had he studied at the Harper Hall. That the Weyr had set him in upon himself in a way that might have made him as proficient a queen-rider as ever Pern might have, but had not made him happy. In Sea'n's company he was re-learning himself – and re-discovering happiness too.

Sea'n, though, really would not see. Still a comparative stranger here, he could not know that he alone had brought Elijah's diffidence into certainty, this smooth and easy transformation of an unassuming boy into a true queen-rider, one whose concealed strengths were becoming more and more apparent.

And Sea'n never seemed to look at Elijah when Elijah turned upon him one of the looks that Meretin at least could see were full of love and longing. Without ever seeming to, Sea'n spent quite a lot of time discreetly watching Elijah, anticipating his needs with what Meretin had decided was definitely a lover's care. But such watching was always when Elijah talked with others or was preoccupied by a task at hand. If Elijah raised his head, or when they spoke together, Sea'n's glances were brief, and he was the one too occupied to look up.

They were friends, there could be no doubt of that. Only now, with Sea'n as guide, was Elijah reaping some of the benefits of riding a queen. He had left his home, a small hold in the Downland beyond which he had seen little, for a broad as well as a musical education in the Harper Hall. Instead, he had buried himself in the Weyr, not venturing further afield than he must for his training, so that there was still so much of Pern he did not know of his own experience. But Sea'n encouraged him, made plans with him to visit the many places he wished to see, to try the things he wished to do, and told of others he really should not miss. He spent his days alongside Elijah whenever their time together was free. Yes, they were friends.

But they were not lovers. Meretin could be certain of that, for Elijah had not asked him for more of the salve. Even a generously-sized pot could last only so long, if used with a proper… enthusiasm.

Some while later, he sat by the dancing square with a cup of wine and a few meatrolls, enjoying the bustle, tapping his toes in time to the music and awaiting his friend and colleague Anatalis. When he paid his courtesy visit to Masterhealer Lotine, he immediately realized an escape was necessary were he not to spend most of his day in retelling, with tactful evasion, every permitted detail of the famous flight to each healer left within the Hall; together, of course, with lengthy speculation upon the resignation of a Weyrleader in favor of mating a junior queen's rider and its effect upon his new Weyr. Healers, he thought, were a terribly _gossipy_ breed when not actually bound by their oath. Anatalis had winked and offered to make up the parcel of herbs he needed, mentioning an interesting theory on the prevention of infection in Threadscore. She would be delighted to expand it, she said, over a cup of wine and in exchange for some dancing (and possibly, her eyes hinted enticingly, the expansion of _other_ things - later and in more privacy).

He shook his head, thoughts returning to Elijah and Sea'n - also sitting over a cup of something, on the opposite side of the square. Though he squinted up at the many dragons on the Heights, he could not have recognized Allibeth had she been amongst the handful of queens there, riders lost already amongst the gather crowds. The Igen Weyrwoman, though, he did know by sight and was therefore unsurprised when the crowd that thronged the nearer aisle suddenly parted to reveal a pair of riders, one tall and beautiful and almost, Meretin thought, _almost_ self-assured.

Crista had chosen today to accentuate her height with heeled boots and the coiling of her famed braid high upon her head. The blue of her gather gown was definitely eye-catching; the style somewhat over-elaborate for the occasion perhaps, but magnificently becoming and certainly a wonderful complement to the hair. He wondered if she knew just how green her eyes could flash, as she looked around, almost casually, and knew full well what might cause it now, by the direction of her seemingly unplanned progress. To others she may seem all poise and elegance, but Meretin knew that Elijah was not the only one here today whose confidence needed a trifle of bolstering. As she crossed aisles toward her quarry, he saw her companion more clearly. Also tall though not yet broad to match, he was not a rider Meretin knew by name - only that he displayed the Weyrleader knots of Igen proudly upon his shoulder. Perhaps the lad had hidden depths (maybe even of leadership, too) but to Meretin he seemed over-young for such responsibility. He was perfect, though, if the point were to prove to Sea'n that he was not the only one who could take a fresh young weyrmate.

Even as he looked back to Sea'n and Elijah, each started slightly – sure sign of a dragon warning – and turned to see Crista, closing rapidly on them now. Elijah said a hurried something and rose from his seat, making off in the direction of the heads; a definite retreat, Meretin thought, but with reason enough. On a day meant for enjoyment, it was quite simply good sense to avoid conflict. A meeting face to face was best not sought, only endured if inescapable.

But for Sea'n, flight could not now be an option, would be insult too obvious to be borne. Though he continued to sit seemingly at ease, it was clear to the healer's eye at least that any and all pleasure in the day had left with Elijah. Tension crept tight across his shoulders; his fingers on the wine cup were awkward, now, and his smile was brittle whether he meant it so or not.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	8. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…how very becoming that color is to his hair…his skin…his eyes…for he is a very pretty little…rider…_

Sea'n's eyes followed Elijah until the crowd closed around him, then he turned his head to watch Crista's approach, slowed to a stroll and more determinedly casual now that half her quarry had disappeared. She even paused occasionally - feigning interest in goods on sale in the booths that lined one side of the aisle, or in the dancers and musicians on the square - but he could almost _feel _her eyes upon him, and knew a sudden kinship with stalked prey. She had made so directly for them he began to wonder who had told her where he and Elijah might be readily found. And whatever she wanted of him now, this was bound to be a difficult meeting and might well prove disastrous.

He drew a deep breath, waiting. The blue gown that became her so well had been a favorite of his; he half-suspected that may even be the reason she was wearing it now. It had certainly been commissioned for occasions far more formal than a gather on a hot and dusty day. Had she worn it because invited to dine later with the Lord Holder and his Lady, a change beforehand from something more suited to the gather would have made more sense.

The bronze-rider clinging to her arm more possessively than Crista would ever normally have invited was young S'rone - whose yolk was scarcely dry on his chin, Sea'n thought angrily, not for himself but for his former Weyr. It made no sense for a rider with barely half a turn's practice at leading a _wing_ to become _Weyr_leader, unless the senior queen had first approved his bronze. Though Sea'n had heard no rumor of either success or failure, that meant little enough. Tidings of a rise in casualties or burrows following Threadfall must verge upon the catastrophic before they would leak beyond the boundaries of a Weyr, for riders held fast to loyalty, keeping their counsel on such matters. Sea'n could only hope the lad was less wet behind the ears than he had been when last he'd seen him, or that he may prove intelligent enough to accept and act upon the advice of older and more experienced riders; perhaps even that the Weyr training he had himself instilled would stand him in good stead. Sammath reminded him quietly that it was time and past time for Allibeth to rise again. D'trel was definitely hovering with a determined air, not too far away, and (Sea'n shaded his eyes to look up to the Heights) Menogeth was perched as close to Allibeth as she would allow – closer by a margin than S'rone's Renorlith.

Sea'n could not blame Elijah for leaving so hurriedly – the prospect of meeting Crista here, knowing the reputation of her sharp tongue, must be overwhelming. The thought that Frideth had disrupted her life so thoroughly, had given insult to her queen by taking Sammath from—

_I was not _taken! Sammath's voice in his head was almost scandalized. _I _chose _Frideth!_

I know that, my friend, but Crista cannot see it that way and will not readily forgive either you or me. And I suspect she may never forgive Frideth or Elijah.

He got to his feet and bowed as she reached the table.

'Sea'n,' Crista inclined her head gracefully as S'rone fussed behind her with Elijah's empty chair, thanking him as she sat with a dazzling smile. 'Now, if you would just bring some of those candied fruits to go with the wine, that would be perfect.'

S'rone nodded, accepting his dismissal without question. Sea'n noticed that D'trel had halted some distance away, browsing a Smithcraft stall and watching without being too obvious about it. There were several more riders lurking - mostly of greens, and by their knots, from more Weyrs than Telgar or Igen, too. Their leanings against stalls and booths were rather blatantly casual, within plain sight if not (and probably to their disappointment) within full hearing. Sea'n had no mind to provide a public spectacle, though. He resolved to remain calm, to finish his wine and then go in search of Elijah, who he knew would not risk returning here to him.

'How are you, Crista?' he asked, determined to be exactly as polite as with any other weyrwoman he may meet today.

'A little tired, if truth be told!' Her tone was deliberately airy. 'A young man can be so very… energetic! At _dancing,_' she added, accusing Sea'n of her own innuendo.

'Really?' But every dancer on the square wore a film of dust almost to the knee, and Crista's dress remained almost pristine. Sea'n doubted that she had enjoyed any dancing at all, as yet.

'I rather thought you would know that for yourself, now. I wonder that you can keep up... with him. You were beginning to show your age,' she paused, 'as a dancer, that is…'

'Then you are well rid of me, are you not?' Sea'n said evenly.

He was saved from the barb he knew would have come by the wine seller setting down a cup before Crista and pouring wine for her. He raised his brows to Sea'n, who shook his head, then backed away. In his trade, Sea'n thought, he must have both an ear for rumor and an instinct for trouble. He definitely seemed to be expecting the latter, for he collected up as many stray cups as he could before scuttling to the presumed safety of the back of his booth. Sea'n wondered if he really believed that Crista was prone to throwing things, or if he merely had a spouse of his own with so volatile a nature.

She sipped, pulled a face and changed the subject only slightly. 'I was hoping to meet with your Elijah in person, but you seem to be abandoned already – has your new weyrwoman tired of you so soon?' She clapped a hand delicately to her mouth as though at an unintended slip of the tongue. 'I beg his pardon, your… what _is_ he, Sea'n?'

'My weyrmate, and you know it,' he said. He would _not_ let her provoke him. He understood that she was hurt by his defection and he was sorry for that, but he would not stay to listen if she intended only to insult Elijah. He hoped fervently that the two really would not cross paths today, for that _lightly-honeyed vitriol_ \- probably with rather less honey, and a good deal more acid - would be sprayed liberally over him should they meet, and Elijah at least did not deserve its burn.

'One dance, Sea'n, for old times' sake,' Crista was saying now. 'Where could be the harm in that? He would surely not begrudge it to you, would he? And in return I shall promise not to speak to your Elijah at all, not even to tell him how very becoming that color is to his hair… his skin… his eyes… for he is a very pretty little… rider!'

Crista must surely have someone watching, to know so much when she could not have been close enough to Elijah to see for herself, Sea'n thought, and he wondered again why she would do so. He refused her bait, standing instead to lead her into the dance set that was just forming. It was mere habit that made him take her hand, and only the quickly concealed flash of triumph in her eyes told him it had been a mistake - as was this dance, he realized as they took their places. It was one they had done together often in the past - a pair dance, slow and intricate, as formal or as sensuous as the couple chose to make it; definitely less suited to afternoon sunlight than to the warm secrecy of evening, when dancers could afterward slip away into the dark and fully enjoy the caresses it simulated. He was almost certain that Crista had arranged its inclusion here, for the lead harper just now was Andaste, who had spent a while at Kervela Hold and was quite obviously smitten with Sea'n's Weyrwoman on their visits there.

A mistake indeed; though Sea'n may move as properly as with any Lady Holder on Pern, the dance floor was busy enough that they must dance close, and from the first Crista was clearly bent upon touching him as often as she had excuse, far more lingeringly - and intimately - than need be. He thought at first that it was for his benefit, each smooth glide of her hips against his designed to arouse him into wanting her once more. But her gaze wandered often to the onlookers, and he knew then that she was hoping desperately that Elijah was watching - hoping that he would be made jealous. Sea'n knew that she could not succeed in either aim, for when the dance was no more than just begun, he had looked up to see Elijah approaching. He had halted right there in mid-aisle, so abruptly that several of those behind had stumbled in the effort not to bump into him. Then he turned on his heel and vanished into the crowd once more; he had no wish whatever to meet Crista here today. Sea'n was grateful for that, and also that Elijah could scarcely have had time to notice how blatant was her dancing. It was bad enough that other spectators saw, and might believe him to be enjoying her would-be seduction - though they must surely see (_Elijah _must surely see?) that this was none of Sea'n's desiring?

Crista's intention was so misplaced as to be almost funny, for Sea'n could have told her that Elijah would never be jealous in the way that she was – a jealousy of possession. _Almost_ funny. Sea'n hurt too much inside to truly appreciate the jest. If Elijah were at all affected by what she was doing, it could be only by the subtle insult offered in having his weyrmate seen dancing close as lovers with his former Weyrwoman. He might not _want_ Sea'n but Elijah too had his pride and whatever happened here would be food for gossip; Sea'n understood Elijah's dislike for being the center of such attention. Backing away yet again from the press of Crista's body, he caught sight of Meretin watching from a seat by the edge of the square. His expression told of disapproval but his companion – a short woman with a kind face, who leaned into Meretin's side in a comfortable way that said _friend, and maybe more_ – sent Sea'n a smile of understanding. She said something then to the healer, who frowned, and nodded before he replied. Sea'n lost sight of them for a while in the turn of steps, but when next he faced that way he thought that Meretin's disapproving look may have softened into sympathy.

As even the worst of things must end, the end to Sea'n's trial came at last. He smothered a sigh of relief as he bowed to Crista and stepped back, but she moved with him, still swaying to the bridging chords and obviously intending a second dance. Then D'trel was there, interposing himself smoothly between them with a polite, 'Excuse me, Sea'n, if I may?' and a magnificent bow for Crista. Flattered, she accepted his offer and Sea'n made good his escape, returning to the wine seller's stand for a cup in which to hide his embarrassed face for a while.

When the dance set finished and more singing began, Sea'n was surprised see Crista – on D'trel's arm now, with young S'rone hanging back, unsure of a welcome even with his little box of candied fruits – leave not just the dance square but the gather, without a single backward glance. Sammath nudged at his mind, showing him Allibeth as she swooped down from the Heights to collect her rider before flying off into the sun.

It was rather odd that Crista should have bothered to come - he assumed in order to meet and publicly humiliate Elijah with a selection of her most scathing words - and yet to leave so abruptly, before she had even had the chance. It seemed to Sea'n all one with the way she was behaving - and he'd long ago given up trying to understand her.

Immensely relieved, he turned back to the dancing square – and there was Elijah at its edge, talking animatedly with a few of Fort Weyr's riders. As Sea'n watched, he stepped forward and hugged one whose knots said he rode a blue, and the rider laughed and whispered something close that made Elijah blush. Sea'n knew his surge of sudden jealousy to be as misdirected as Crista's, but it made no difference. And then somehow the group of riders merged and mingled with a neighboring cluster of holder girls, and for a while there was much chatting, more laughter and what looked to be not a little flirting. When the new dance set began, gather gowns and filmy scarves in flower-petal shades swirled through and around the solid blues and purples and greens of tunics as the group resolved itself into pairs. Sea'n's gaze followed only the deep wine-red that was Elijah's as he took his place opposite a pretty girl with soft brown eyes and an equally soft smile. He forced himself to watch, finding comfort in the fact that _this_ set skipped and whirled and clapped so fast along until dancers and musicians alike must rest.

He had thought his vantage point half-concealed, but as soon as the music ceased, Elijah bowed, laughing and panting at once, to each of the girls in turn - the pretty brunette no differently than the rest. He said his farewells to the riders and made his way straight to where Sea'n was standing. His cheeks were flushed bright rose, lips not far short of scarlet, chest still heaving from the exertion - and his eyes were somehow bluer than ever.

Sea'n had seen him look this way only once before. Something twisted, deep within his chest, and his body tightened; the lust had not been purely dragon-driven, his desire had been his own - and he could remember only too well exactly how Elijah had looked when he took him.

Crista's dancing had indeed proved arousing, though not as she intended. She - and the pretty dancer - had reminded him just how much he needed to feel Elijah's body enfolded by his own once more, after so many sevendays of denying himself even the simplest touch. Elijah had no idea of the constant temptation he offered simply by being who he was, and Sea'n must keep it that way. But he would have given much, now, to smooth aside the wayward curls that tumbled round his joyful face – and even more to taste that enjoyment in a kiss.

He turned away quickly, trying to recall where might be the nearest stall selling cooled fruit juices. 'Come,' he said, 'you look thirsty!'

Perhaps it came out rather more sharply than he meant it to, for Elijah's _Yes_ was flat and low, and in his voice was none of the delight that Sea'n had seen in him only moments before.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

Sea'n was far too quiet now, and Elijah wondered what Crista had said to make him speak so shortly. He hoped she had not hurt him so much with her words that Sea'n would begin to resent his weyrmate for the disruption of his life. He knew she had intended them to meet; though it would probably have provided green-rider gossip for the rest of the Pass, it could only have ended badly for all three, and especially for Sea'n, who would hold himself always to blame.

But whatever she had said, and however closely they had danced, Crista had left the gather, was gone completely, for Elijah too had felt Sammath's nudge when Allibeth flew down for her. Sea'n was still here, had not even accompanied her to her queen - and Crista had not looked happy as she stalked away on the arm of the rider who was not Sea'n. From the shelter of a shadowed booth, Elijah had caught the green flash of her eyes, covetous and thwarted at once, and was slightly ashamed of knowing and being even a little proud to be the cause of that jealousy. _Very_ slightly, for he too wanted Sea'n and this was proof that _he _had Sea'n and she had not, even if it was not the way Elijah truly wanted him. She had been a confident beauty always - never before that he knew of had she needed to flaunt it; he could not regret having caused that.

And Sea'n _was_ here with him still, and the tension was gradually easing from his face as he bought juice and meat rolls for them as they wandered the stalls.

Elijah's relief made him recklessly cheerful then, and he told Sea'n a joke he had heard from M'chen, and Sea'n smiled at him, a little, and countered with another. When Elijah laughed aloud, Sea'n's real smile appeared, the one that turned Elijah's insides completely upside down, and all was truly right again between them.

At the Harpercraft booth, he reminded Elijah to collect new strings for his gitar, and Elijah was tempted by a tambour, too, well made and with a clear tone, but decided that 'Only three marks!' were three too many since he didn't really need it. When they came to the bubbly pie stall, though, he couldn't resist. He ate not one but three, scorching fingers and tongue on the first and complaining that the third had cooled too far by the time he came to eat it.

Sea'n, finishing his own pair of pies more temperately, pointed out that this major catastrophe hadn't stopped Elijah from seeming to enjoy it. 'Frideth will be lucky to get off the ground at all, what with her eggs _and_ you, stuffed to the hairline with pies!'

'Perhaps Sammath could carry Meretin, then, so that I may have another?' Elijah suggested as he went back for a fourth, hot and bubbling as they should be, and Sea'n laughed at him again.

The afternoon passed pleasantly then. They returned to sit by the dance square for a while, though it seemed that Sea'n had no more mind for further dancing than he. But Elijah was pleased to be remembered by Master Ferlis, under whom he would have studied Composition had he actually arrived at the Harper Hall. He realized then with sudden shock that had it not been for M'chen and his unauthorized detour, he must have taken his turn as apprentice harper here today – or maybe even journeyman, by now.

And Frideth? What would have become of Frideth? He shuddered at the thought.

_I am here. We are together. Do not worry over what might have been, for it is not._

Elijah smiled, comforted by the warmth of her presence in his mind. He turned then, intending to share her thought with Sea'n, but was distracted by an invitation to play. Before he knew it he was drawn into the next set, taking second gitar in the accompaniment to _The Ballad of Frideth and Sammath_. Carlen had submitted the song to the Harper Hall on his behalf, only telling Elijah once it had been accepted into the repertoire. He was glad that he had not to sing, but it was fun to play his own music for others to voice. When he grinned across at Sea'n he received a broad smile in return and almost missed a chord or two. And on Sea'n's face he could see a pride in their dragons - maybe a little in his weyrmate too - and that made it so much better.

Later, at the Weavercraft stall, Elijah found at last a fabric to replace the tunic that Sea'n's haste had ripped apart in the heat of their mating flight. When Elijah had said that it could not be mended, Sea'n insisted he must have a new one made when he found a weave he liked. Elijah had not thought that he would do any such thing and still felt guilty, but could not now explain that it was not the truth; that the torn garment lay, a neatly folded memory, in the bottom of Elijah's clothes chest. He needed to keep it that way.

Leaving Sea'n to dicker for the cloth, he went to perch on a low wall at the edge of the gather field, struggling to take off a tight-fitting boot to remove what felt like a boulder beneath his heel, but would probably turn out to be no bigger than the smallest of small peas.

'Unnatural harlot!'

He heard the curtly vicious insult but did not immediately realize that it was meant for him alone.

'Harlot!' the voice repeated, louder and more pointed now. 'Fornicating bitch!' The speaker was approaching from the other side of the wall – and there was no-one else near to whom he could be speaking.

Elijah flushed bright red, then paled. He had always known that there were those who objected to the mating of males together. It was a belief found mostly in isolated holds where dragons were little seen, their value was not understood and no harper taught, to counter twisted rumor. Green-riders would be the usual sufferers from such censure, of course; he supposed that he had been lucky up to this.

Giving up on the boot, he stamped his foot hard into it, ignoring the pea making its presence felt so sharply beneath his instep, now. But as he stood to leave, the man grabbed him roughly, dragging him over the coarse stone. Thrown completely off balance, Elijah fell across the wall, the skin of his forearm scraping raw as his sleeve was torn aside. The man was broad and strong and reeked of spirits – Bitran courage, Elijah thought; sober, he must surely know the danger of attacking any rider. Or maybe he was so ignorant that he really did _not_ know?

Elijah's involuntary cry was echoed by Frideth from the Heights. _You hurt!_

Do not worry, I am well enough!

He clamped his mind down firmly upon the pain and spoke with the most soothing tone that he could manage, though beads of blood already welled and dripped from the grazes along his lower arm. Above that he was caught in a grip that bit through sleeve and skin alike, and deep into muscle and bone. Pain, too, held him captive as his shoulder felt to be wrenching almost from his body; but he understood full well the warnings: of dragons who would defend their riders too vigorously for the health – or life - of an aggressor. A gather was no place for such a terrible possibility to be proven, and an incident with out-of-control dragons could only confirm the distrust still prevalent in some of the outlying holds.

_I am well enough,_ he insisted, even as the man's huge fist was raised above his face. He tried to twist aside but the steely grip gave no escape. It would happen – and once he was unconscious, Frideth would…

_No! Frideth, NO! _

But she screamed again, Sammath roaring beside her - and both were gone, swooping into _between _ right there, even as Elijah's attacker held him splayed down over the sharp stone.

Then as suddenly he was released - and the man slumped senseless to the ground.

'Are you all right?' Sea'n's voice was tight with worry as he lifted Elijah to his feet and set him gently to sit upon the wall. 'Did he hit you?'

'No, I am—'

Dust swirled far and wide and gather banners fluttered wildly to the flail of dragon wings as Frideth and Sammath emerged into the air directly above them, vast shadows black against the sun.

_Go back, Frideth, for I am not much hurt! Sea'n rescued me and the man will be dealt with. Please, go back to the Heights._ She hummed anxiously in his mind, and Elijah calmed her with thoughts of love and comfort. _Sea'n will look after me, you know he will - please, go back!_

He knew that Sea'n was asking Sammath to go, too, but in the shock and pain of the attack and his gratitude that nothing worse had come of the matter, Elijah broke his own rule. _Thank you for coming, Sammath, but I am all right, really I am! _

You are welcome, Elijah, though I did nothing – it was Sea'n. He is a brave man.

He is, indeed!

Sammath had heard him, and had used his name. It was a high compliment.

In a whoosh of hot air the dragon pair rose on high, leaving the dust to settle once more, and Elijah realized that a great crowd had gathered to see what was afoot here to bring dragons down so fast and close.

The sudden respite from that piercing grasp had been relief in itself, but pain returned now worse than ever. Elijah slumped against Sea'n, who supported him carefully, dabbing gingerly at the blood with a wet cloth brought by one of the stall holders. The offender still lay, groaning but ignored completely, on the far side of the wall. The richness of his tunic was completely spoiled now, Elijah thought hazily, fixing on that to avoid facing the fierce ache that spread outward from somewhere deep within his shoulder. Torn, soiled with dust and blood, and heavily streaked with the grey-green of lichens from the stone, it was – _he_ was – both were one sad mess, and now he really needed the replacement Sea'n was to have made for him.

He looked at Sea'n to share the thought, but he was busy explaining what had happened to a fussy, self-important man with Healer Hall knots who began a sudden, painful probing of his arm and shoulder. It was quickly done, though not without Elijah fearing another spurt of blood, this time from the lip he was biting in order not to scream like a girl beneath so many curious glances, all peering at him from just feet away.

'Most fortunately the joint is not dislocated, Weyr-rider, though there will be some considerable bruising, also of your upper arm. Numbweed applied liberally will alleviate the pain, and I would recommend a generous dose to be taken in wine before sleeping. A bath is most advisable, both in further alleviation and in order to thoroughly cleanse the abraded portions of your forearm which are both extensive and deep, and will require scrupulous attention if they are not to become infected.'

It was exactly what Elijah would have advised had their positions been reversed - and had he been rather more fond than he was of the sound of his own voice.

'Thank you,' he said. 'I shall do so, just as soon as I get back to the Weyr.' To his surprise and relief the man heard the dismissal and took his leave, with a bow but without argument. Elijah would not have allowed a patient of _his_ to escape so easily, but he just wanted this whole ordeal to be over now, and to be left alone with Sea'n once more. He tugged awkwardly at the tatters of his sleeve, needing to hide the evidence of the grazes, though Sea'n gently tried to hold it away from where the blood seeped still. Elijah could almost feel his worry through the fingers that skimmed softly from sleeve to shoulder, leaving only comfort in their wake; Sea'n said nothing though, lips folded tightly together as he tucked a stray wisp of curl carefully behind Elijah's ear.

'My dear Weyr-rider! I cannot tell you how sorry I am that such a thing should have happened!' The Lord Holder had arrived, all apologies and with an array of guards behind him to disperse the crowd and haul away the thug, whose legs still would not hold him upright. He wore the laborer knots of a minor hold away up in the mountains, and one or two of the onlookers offered suggestions as to name.

'Will you not come up to the Hold? I should be honored to provide water for washing and a fresh tunic, or perhaps a bath to soothe the pain, and numbweed of course.' Lord Teragon clearly felt the shame of hosting a gather at which a queen-rider had been molested.

Elijah shook his head slightly, and wished he had not. 'A man of no manners, merely, and only my dignity is a little ruffled,' he said, clutching at that dignity for control, when what he really needed was to hide away somewhere (_in Sea'n's arms…_) and moan out his pain. 'I beg that he be released and sent back to his hold, come the morning.'

Sea'n looked as though he would have intended more, but bowed his head to Elijah's decision.

'If that is your wish,' Teragon said doubtfully.

'I should like to sit a little more comfortably, perhaps,' Elijah said, 'and a cup of wine would be welcome before we leave.'

Sea'n's arm around him was reassuring, if so much less than he would have liked, as he was gently led to the nearest wine vendor's stall where there were seats beneath an awning. Teragon ordered wine and sent someone for meat rolls and small sweetcakes, but Elijah could not have eaten.

'If you could request the Harper Hall to assign someone to that hold, to teach the dragon and rider songs, the man might lose some of his ignorance and keep his skin whole a little longer,' he said with an effort, wanting to dismiss the matter in the wine, but knowing his hand would shake too much if he raised the cup to drink as yet.

With Lord Teragon's assurance that he would indeed speak to the Master Harper himself on the subject, Elijah allowed himself to sink a little in his chair. Whatever else Sea'n and the Lord Holder may have to say drifted completely by him. His world narrowed to that place on his arm where the man's fingers still clamped like steel upon him, to the pain high in his shoulder that throbbed so sharp and deep. In time, one of the soldiers returned, but the hurried words meant little - something about the prisoner and marks; though Sea'n's voice was angry then, it was not directed at him and he could afford to let it go.

Finally, he reached for the wine, and managed to lift it to his mouth, but the rim of the cup clattered wildly against his teeth and the little that he drank lay sour in his stomach.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	9. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…a weyrmate demanding spousal rights he'd never wanted to share in the first place…_

_Sammath, would you mind, and if not, would you ask Frideth's permission for me to ride with Elijah?_

Sea'n was fastening the buckles from Elijah's safety belt onto Frideth's harness, for his fingers were shaking too much to do it for himself.

_Frideth says that she would never allow Elijah to fall but that you are more than welcome to ride and hold him. We do not mind, for he needs you._

As Sea'n mounted the neck ridge behind him, Elijah mumbled a protest – something about Meretin - but Sea'n was not about to wait for the healer to be found before he could get Elijah home.

'Hush,' he said softly. 'Someone will bring him, but we need to get you back so you can soak away some of the pain and let numbweed take care of the rest.'

He gathered Elijah carefully to him as Frideth took off as smoothly as ever a dragon might, relieved that for this at least, Elijah had no objection to Sea'n's arms around him. He must indeed be in great pain to allow his head to fall back against Sea'n's shoulder. When the queen dipped into the bone-chilling cold of _between_ and Elijah's shaking became outright shivering, Sea'n's worry made the black nothing last twice as long. The burst of sunlight and shadow came as a sudden shock as Frideth emerged directly above her ledge.

Elijah made no demur as Sea'n helped him dismount and supported him directly to the bathing room, but once there tried valiantly to insist that he needed no help and that Sea'n should leave him beside the pool to fend for himself. Since the day of their mating, Elijah had dressed and undressed either here or in the dark, clearly wishing to hide his body from Sea'n.

But Sea'n heard the stifled groan as he made to peel the ruined tunic even halfway from his shoulders. This was no time to allow him to be shy, and Sea'n was there at once to ease the fabric up and away as gently as possible. He hissed as he uncovered the mass of red and purple already mottling stark and wide over pale skin, staining outward from the vicious marks gouged at fingers' breadth. Below the elbow his arm was banded with bloody scrapes, and more blood had oozed after the quick wipe Sea'n had given at the gather. Soaking into the tatters of sleeve it had dried and stuck, just as Sea'n had feared; no matter how carefully he pulled and despite the application of a wet cloth, he knew he was adding to the ordeal, though Elijah made barely a sound.

'Thank you,' he said when it was done, his voice breathless from the pain.

'He really hurt you.' It was a stupid thing to say, when Sea'n could see - and hear - only too well the pain the thug had caused. But it was the only thing he could manage without his anger breaking free.

Elijah nodded, just once. 'He… did not approve of me. Or of mated males, I was not sure.'

'But we are not really…' _And will not be, until Frideth rises again._

'No, but I could scarcely tell him that,' Elijah said, and Sea'n hoped that the bitterness in his voice was for the stupidity of a man who would consider such a matter worth injury, and not against the male by whom he had perforce been mated.

'I can manage now, I think - thank you,' he said, setting his good hand to the buttons of his trousers. He turned his back then, but moved too quickly, for he gasped.

'Perhaps, but you will need help to climb in.' And maybe he would not, but Sea'n had no intention of leaving him to cope with this alone. 'Don't worry,' he said, trying for a joking tone, 'I shall not look!'

But Elijah looked away - without protest, only holding his head high, his eyes out of the line of Sea'n's as he permitted Sea'n's hands to take care of him. The tension in him might have arisen only from the pain – but Sea'n did not think so; Elijah was not comfortable being naked near him. As neutrally as he could, Sea'n guided him into the swirling water, folding a towel to lay where his head would rest at the lip. Elijah seemed to relax into the water, the pinched look on his face easing just a little.

'Soak for as long as it feels good,' Sea'n said. 'I shall be back shortly.'

He left the bathing room and let himself drop down onto the bed. For just a moment or two he needed to feel his way through the rage that simmered hotly inside.

_Sea'n? You are still angry?_

Very angry!

At the man who hurt Elijah?

Lord Teragon's soldier brought news that the thug had been paid in marks to attack him.

Someone else wanted him to be hurt? Sammath's voice in his head was puzzled. The concept was not one that he could understand.

_Yes._ Sea'n could. Especially if the provider of the marks…

He was furious but he could not prove his suspicion unless he flew to whichever paltry hold the man had come from and got the name out of him - with or without Sammath's assistance. An idiot who was prepared to risk assaulting a rider would be unlikely to know that _that_ was the only reason a dragon ever would hurt a human. An impressively looming bronze would probably scare a name from him without need for further persuasion. But Crista would not have dealt with him herself, anyway. Someone else would have arranged it for her - if indeed she was behind it, though Sea'n was convinced that she was.

And Elijah had not wanted the man punished, had asked only that he be released and that a harper should be sent to teach in that hold. A queen-rider's request could not be refused - and Sea'n had to admit that his was the wiser solution. It would ensure that the children of the hold, at least, should grow up to respect dragonkind, even if the thug never learned the error of his bigoted ways.

Wiser perhaps, but so much less satisfying than beating him to a pulp would have been. It was not something Sea'n had ever thought about before, but for someone who would attack Elijah he would have made the exception. He thumped a fist into the bed, feeling the sting of his own bruised knuckles, knowing all the while that he might lash out in necessity but never would with danger past and anger slightly cooled - only that he was still angry enough to imagine it. But he was also honest enough to know that had he not taken the man by surprise, the outcome might have been very different – and maybe exactly what he knew Elijah had tried so valiantly to avoid, but with two dragons instead of only one.

He blew out a breath, needing finally to let go his fury before he returned to put Elijah to bed.

He didn't want to _put_ Elijah to bed – he wanted to _take_ him there. He wanted to feel that beautiful skin spread all along his own, to curl carefully around him, to have Elijah fall asleep safe in his embrace, and to awaken him with a gentle love-making…

_Frideth is unhappy, for Elijah hurts very much,_ Sammath said suddenly.

_I know, my friend, but the numbweed works quickly and he will feel better very soon._

He hurts inside too.

He is injured inside? Sea'n's concern spiked suddenly into fear. He had not thought that the man could also have caused internal damage - unseen and the more dangerous for its concealment, perhaps.

_No. Frideth says it is a sad hurt._

Of course - such a thing should never happen... The proper cure for Elijah's sadness was not to be found in jar or bottle, only in the loving arms of someone whom he loved well in return - and Sea'n could offer only the first part of that remedy.

He rose at once and went down to the kitchens, setting aside both anger and desire. After being attacked for that very reason, the last thing Elijah needed was a weyrmate demanding spousal rights he had never wanted to share in the first place.

The Caverns were almost deserted, so many of the weyrfolk being at the gather, still. But Candessa was there, teetering about at the bottom of the stairs. To Sea'n's eyes she was obviously intending any minute to step up to their weyr and demand to know exactly what had happened to bring Frideth home so early carrying both Elijah and Sea'n, when Sammath bore no rider at all. He suspected that only her romantic nature had kept her down here so long. She loved to hear a song of love and courtship and happy ever after (and, Sea'n was sure, nursed a secret passion of her own for the Weyrharper). Sea'n holding so tightly to Elijah aboard Elijah's queen may well have given her a completely wrong idea.

'What is it, Sea'n? Where is Elijah?' She must have known from his face that Sea'n had only a serious purpose here. 'He's hurt!'

'He was attacked – assaulted by a vicious lout who hadn't the sense he was born with!'

Candessa's face paled. 'How is he? Is he badly hurt? And Meretin not here! What can I do?'

'One of the Fort healers – I didn't catch the name – examined him and said there's nothing really damaged, only much bruising and many grazes – he was pulled over a wall. The healer said he needs a bath – that's where he is right now - followed by numbweed outside and in, and sleep. I can manage all that, but I need weed and wine to give it in, and bandages, perhaps, though he didn't say. And redwort. And…'

Candessa put up her hand. 'You mix the numbweed solution – more water than wine, mark you. In there, second shelf up, and use one of the bottles from nearest the door. I'll get the rest.' She pushed him toward the pantry as she hurried off to the room where healer supplies were kept against Threadfall.

Sea'n drank a good half of the cup of wine he poured, needing still to calm himself, then measured in a careful dose of numbweed, topped it with water and swirled it around. When he tasted, it didn't seem quite strong enough, so he added a dash more of the weed, in case.

As he carried it from the pantry, Candessa was already waiting, a tray before her on the table bearing a jar of numbweed salve, a bowl of redwort and bandages of various sizes. There was a dish of apples, too, some bread, and a wedge of the sharp yellow cheese that had arrived in the last train of supplies.

'I thought you might be hungry, even if Elijah cannot eat,' she said, whisking a cloth over the food since it must wait to be eaten. She was quiet for a moment, then asked, 'The man – the lout… is he dead?'

'What? No! Though it may have been a near thing.'

'It's—I thought—Frideth…' The worry on her face reminded Sea'n of how very close a thing it had been, and how terrible had it happened.

He shook his head. 'Elijah stopped her from harming him – I had to hold Sammath back, too. Both dragons came down...'

Sea'n stopped - seeing, hearing it again. Elijah's muffled cry somewhere in the near distance, just as Sammath's sudden _Sea'n!_ loudly thrust into his mind the dreadful image of Elijah pinned fast across a low stone wall, face turned almost calmly up to his assailant… whose broad fist was poised above him. Sea'n was there before he had time to think, hadn't even noticed then how tall and heavyset the man was; was only glad he was stooping so Sea'n's own fist, brought down hard and sharp behind his ear, could land a crippling blow.

'You should have seen Elijah,' he said. 'He was so defiant – so very strong…' He swallowed, and picked up the tray. 'I must get back to him – he really needs these.'

'If there's anything else I can do…'

Sea'n nodded. 'I know, but I think sleep will be best for him after this. Thank you,' he said, 'and Elijah will bless you too, once I get the numbweed on and into him!'

Though he hurried back to the bathing room, he was unsurprised to find Elijah already out of the water, trying to wrap himself within a huge towel. For a moment, Sea'n stood in the doorway, relishing the sight of Elijah's firm back, the line of lithe cream skin half-draped in dark toweling. Then Elijah let out a tight sound of tired frustration and Sea'n realized to his shame that he was doing exactly what Elijah wanted and needed least from him, and was glad that Elijah had not caught him doing so. But he could not allow him to struggle like this, possibly even to make the hurt worse by trying to rub himself dry, one-handed.

'Wait, let me help.' Setting down the tray he went to stand behind Elijah this time, to spare him as much embarrassment as he could.

Elijah stilled, saying nothing, but his exhausted sigh told Sea'n that he knew he really could not do this alone, and he did not refuse Sea'n's aid as he reached hands around to dry him. Over the injured arm and shoulder Sea'n pressed as lightly and as gently as he could, wincing each time Elijah's breath hissed through his teeth. For the rest, he worked quickly but thoroughly, making sure that there was nothing in his touch to which Elijah could object, taking the weight of the towel so that he could dry more sensitive places himself. Then, Sea'n wrapped it firmly around Elijah's waist, nudging him to sit on the pool edge.

He turned, numbweed pot in hand, fingers protected by redwort solution, and saw again the full extent of the damage – worse, now, he thought, as though the water's warmth had brought the colors to a vivid peak. The fierce red-purple bloomed across Elijah's creamy skin, the worst of it a wide, dark spread of pain high on his shoulder, the grasp of cruel fingers all too clear around his upper arm; from wrist to elbow seemed one long, raw scrape of skin, blood still beading sluggishly in lines. Once more Sea'n forced down his fury at a man who would mar such perfection, who would think to lay hands on one who was so far above him – not by rank alone but in courage and in honor.

Sea'n concentrated in silence on his task, anger slowly receding as the numbweed brought almost instant relief to ease the tightness from Elijah's face. He seemed also to let go the tension Sea'n had felt between them - accepting Sea'n's touch, almost leaning into his hands as though he understood at last that Sea'n would do nothing he did not want. He was able then to release the bottom lip he had bitten into whiteness and offer a shaky smile of thanks. Sea'n shook his head as he snugly bound up the grazes, knowing gratitude was owed only to those who grew and harvested and decocted the plant to this invaluable necessity in pain and healing.

He stepped back thinking all was done, but Elijah said, 'Wait,' and pushed down the towel to show another vivid bruise, staining deep, low upon his hip. The sharp collision as he fell against stone, Sea'n realized, soothing it with a liberal coat of weed. As his fingers spread the salve, he must ignore how close was the smudge of dark hair, peeping from the towel's edge.

Just as the redwort kept Sea'n from feeling the numbweed, it came also between him and the softness of Elijah's skin. He might be free to touch Elijah again at last, but the redwort - and even more the hurt Elijah had suffered - made sure that he could not enjoy it. He couldn't touch how and where most he wanted to, couldn't even pretend to himself that this could be anything more than care for an injured fellow rider, no matter the tenderness he set in his fingers. Elijah must see it as such, of course. Sea'n sent wordless thanks to Meretin's sympathetic friend for detaining the healer at Fort; he would have insisted on treating the injuries - and Sea'n so wanted to tend Elijah himself.

The numbweed may have taken away the pain, but Elijah was shivering once more, a frown creasing his forehead, an inward look to his face that said he was hurting still - inside, as Frideth had told Sammath. Sea'n touched his hand - cold, despite the warmth of a late summer's afternoon. Delayed shock, he realized, and what he needed now was the warmth of their bed, the numbweed draught and sleep.

He cleaned his own hands quickly and brought a thick cotton robe, bundling Elijah into it and handing him the mild wine mixture. Elijah pulled a face at the bitterness and Sea'n thought that perhaps he _had_ overdone the weed a little in the mixing - or maybe underdone the water - but he cajoled and wheedled until Elijah gave him a small smile and drank it anyway. With an arm around his shoulders Sea'n steered him to the bed and helped him lie, still wearing the robe for its warmth. He tucked the covers snugly around him, but Elijah went on shivering, a small form in the center of the huge bed, huddled in on itself in cold and misery.

With a rueful smile, Sea'n brought a spare riding strap from Sammath's harness and hung it across the doorway. Very quietly he kicked off his boots and crawled onto the bed behind Elijah, snugging him into the curve of his body. He wrapped one arm over and forward so that Elijah was as nearly in his arms as possible.

And as Sea'n held him, not even in the bed with him, the covers still between them, Elijah's breathing steadied, no longer hitching in time to his shivers, and he relaxed, warm and comforted at last. One hand blindly reached out and found Sea'n's, threading their fingers together and pulling them in to his chest. Sea'n remembered that Elijah had little brothers at home with whom he had probably cuddled to sleep in just this way. He heard a slurred murmur of thanks and of his name, soft and drowsy as the dosed wine took its effect. He didn't even try to stop himself from pressing a kiss into Elijah's hair - he would not remember it, come morning. Then Sea'n too slipped quietly into sleep.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	10. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…he was sure the precept must be relaxed between loving weyrmates…_

_Renorlith is gone! _

'Oh!' Elijah put his hands to his ears, just as Sammath's wild howl of bereavement echoed around the Bowl and every dragon in the Weyr joined his ululation of sorrow for the loss of one of their kind.

Though he had no idea who Renorlith was – had been – it was obvious that Sea'n knew, for he froze as he was leaving the lower caverns after the midday meal. Elijah had stayed beside Candessa, for they must spend the afternoon discussing supplies for the Weyr and replacement of necessities that had run short. The latest supply train had become bogged down after heavy rain on the trails and many precious bundles were spoiled.

He went immediately to Sea'n, pulling him to sit at the nearest table, while Candessa brought wine and cups to deaden the pain their dragons were voicing. Badly as he wanted to hug him, hold him through a sorrow that was nearer for a rider and dragon whom Sea'n must have known well, the most Elijah could offer was a consoling hand on Sea'n's arm as he sat beside him.

_It was Fall, over Keroon. Renorlith's rider was too eager. He was unprepared and did not meet Thread well. He is gone with Renorlith. There was much confusion, and others of our wing were hurt before Menogeth's rider took charge._

'Who was he, Sea'n?' Elijah waited to ask until Sea'n had gulped down half his wine and the dragons' lament sank to a sad, recurring murmur of two voices inside his head. Other riders, many from Sea'n's wing, came to sit, all with a need for something strong to quiet their own internal keen, all needing to know which of their kind had lost his lifemate.

'S'rone rode bronze Renorlith.' Sea'n sounded dazed. 'You must have seen him with Crista at the Fort gather. He took over my wing when he was given the leadership. Dragon and rider are both gone. Sammath says there were injuries, too. D'trel assumed command, after…'

Elijah filled the cup for him once more, taking a good swallow for himself before nudging him into drinking deep. Their own Fall was a day past, and a fuddling with wine no risk here; there was time to sleep it off before they must again fight Thread. He passed along the bottle, and someone brought more cups and yet more wine to make a rapid circuit of the table. Fatalities were far from uncommon, but every rider and every dragon felt and mourned each one, whichever Weyr sustained the loss. And each of them knew inside that S'rone had taken the best end that he could, for to outlive your dragon was unimaginable.

_Zendreth is unhurt. He has a good rider and their wing is clever in the air. They flew Fall to its end and then aided the injured._

For a moment Elijah wondered who Zendreth's rider might be, that Sea'n should have asked Sammath about his safety, before realizing that it must be his friend S'ttan.

He knew of S'ttan already, for before Sea'n had left to resign his Weyr, he briefly mentioned this friend of whom he must also take leave. He had spoken with regret for the parting as he had not of parting from Crista - as Elijah understood, of course, that he would not. Since then he had listened with interest to all that Sea'n would share with him of Igen and steadfastly ignored what Sea'n so tactfully left out. S'ttan and he had been friends since they were Searched for the same clutch, Sea'n said. Candidates together, each Impressing a bronze, they had learned together to be dragonriders. S'ttan's long friendship was just one more of the reasons Elijah had feared would keep Sea'n at Igen. But it had not, and Elijah was disposed to be friendly on that ground alone, let alone that Sea'n thought so highly of him.

Two days later, he met S'ttan in person, for he arrived at Telgar in the late morning.

_Zendreth comes! His rider brings news of the Weyr._

'S'ttan has come a'visiting!' Sea'n said, gladness in his voice, though his face was sad at the reminder of how terrible the aftermath of S'rone's tragedy had been. He set aside the strap he was re-stitching and made for the stairs just as a bronze dragon back-winged in to land. 'Come and meet him!' he called as he disappeared.

Elijah gathered up the rest of the fighting straps they had been checking and renewing together. He rolled them into a tidy bundle, then went out onto the ledge to watch their greeting carefully from his vantage point.

There he was - Sea'n's best friend.

Elijah had not had a best friend of his own since he left home on M'chen's blue Andeloth, the day that changed his entire life. And even so, he had a feeling that the work and games and childish secrets that he and Rontel had shared were a long way from what he would wish to share now, had he such a friend.

He knew that Sea'n was already a real friend to him. He had hopes that one day Sea'n might count him as more; that he might gradually be allowed to be for Sea'n almost what S'ttan had been. He would not wish to supplant S'ttan. Sea'n's heart was large enough for more than one such friendship, and Elijah just wanted to be close to him that way if no other. Others whom Elijah might count as friend here – Meretin or Carlen – were so much older that they felt more like parents; Candessa had claimed him as an almost-fosterling, and was far too much like Mother, besides. Sea'n was older but not by so many turns that it mattered, and what Elijah really wanted from him was a very long way from parental – and a great deal more than merely friendly.

S'ttan looked to be a naturally solemn man, though that might be only from the terrible strain of the past few days. He dismounted from his dragon just as Sea'n approached; just a little taller, Elijah thought, and whip-thin with dark hair that looked to spring from his helmet with a life of its own. There seemed a pause then, and S'ttan fiddled with buckles and gloves and the fastening of his jacket as though uncertain of a welcome. Surely he knew Sea'n better than to think that a change of Weyr might change a true friendship?

But Sea'n moved forward to hug him, and S'ttan's face lit with a smile that Elijah never would have suspected. Sea'n's friend was also a handsome man.

The smile vanished quickly as they walked toward the caverns, S'ttan speaking rapidly and Sea'n asking many questions, looking up at the ledge to wave Elijah down. Drudges were already bringing the tables and benches for the noon meal, and Sea'n and S'ttan had unfolded a table together and were setting the benches to it just as Elijah left the stairs. Candessa arrived then, with klah and her inquisitive mind, eager to meet this rider who was so obviously a friend to Sea'n, but also bringing her regrets for Igen's losses. Others had been injured and at least one might never fly again, they had heard, and several riders had been Threadscored.

And a second rider had died late that same night – M'han who had been Sea'n's own wing-second. Another sorrow to echo through the Weyrs as his dragon went at once _between_; another sorrow to leave Sea'n sad and angry and withdrawn. Elijah knew only too well that he was blaming himself - and despite his desire to comfort Sea'n he dared not come too close lest Sea'n recall just whose fault it was that he had left his Weyr behind and caused so disastrous a change of leader. Sea'n had not seemed to blame him, though; in the next days his smiles were rare and brief, but there was one always for Elijah.

As he approached the table now and S'ttan rose, waiting to meet him, Elijah could feel that he was under close, if politely veiled, scrutiny. _Probably weighing me against what he thinks best for his best friend, wondering if I am good enough to weyrmate Sea'n!_

Dragon snorts tickled at his mind and he was unsure if he heard Frideth's voice alone or, as he half-suspected, Sammath's too.

The clasp of S'ttan's hand was dry and firm, his eyes dark and clear and steady. Elijah thought at once that here was a man to be relied upon. If he said that he would do a thing, then do it he would. Elijah thought he could see already why Sea'n might value his friendship.

'The news is better!' Sea'n told him at once. 'S'ttan says that Nelath's wing is responding well to treatment, and the chances are good that she may fly again!'

No one would mention the fact that so severe an injury always meant thick regrowth of the damaged sail and restricted movement in the wing; that green Nelath would fly only in the very best of conditions - and never again without effort, the way that a dragon should. But S'lcon, less hurt because his dragon had borne the brunt, would be more than relieved to have his lifemate with him still, and that was happiness of a kind. They toasted health and a swift recovery to all with their mugs of klah, and then Candessa left them to talk as she went back to chivvy along her staff with carefully rationed snippets of Igen news.

'Sea'n—' S'ttan hesitated and lowered his voice. 'You too, Elijah. I came as much with just a little word of warning.'

Sea'n's eyebrows went up in question, but Elijah thought that he did not seem as surprised as he might.

'For some reason, Crista has decided that what happened was all your fault. Both of you, Sea'n for leaving and you, Elijah for—' He paused, unsure, then shook his head and added, with a wry smile, 'just for being who you are, I think.'

'And of course it had nothing to do with a Weyrleader who was too young for his position,' Elijah began, hot in his defense of Sea'n, 'put in place by a j—' He stopped, abruptly.

'A jealous Weyrwoman,' Sea'n finished for him, mildly. 'And she is right in that some of the responsibility must be mine, for it seems that I didn't train S'rone well enough for him to lead a Weyr if called upon.'

'Don't be ridiculous!' S'ttan said, before Elijah could. 'His training was just what you received, if not better! And you were a turn _younger_ than S'rone when first you led Igen, but _you_ didn't suddenly decide to ignore more experienced riders in favor of your own ideas before you had really grasped what you were doing at all!'

Elijah wanted to cheer as this best of friends snapped out some of his frustration at so much unnecessary pain and sorrow. He smiled warmly instead, and S'ttan returned the smile, though still with a shadow in his eyes, Elijah thought. He wondered if S'ttan might have some deeper distress from the tragedy that he would not share while Elijah was here.

'You should have a care, both of you,' S'ttan said then. 'I know it sounds as though I am the one being overly cautious but I really think that if Crista could cause you a mischief apiece, she would. She has been most odd, of late. Her temper was never of the best,' he smiled apologetically at Sea'n who grinned back despite all seriousness, 'but she has been truly—truly _cantankerous_ since you left!'

All three laughed together at his choice of word - needful release, Elijah thought, from so much tension and sadness and loss.

Then Sea'n began, 'I should have said this already,' and stopped. Elijah looked at him, for Sea'n was never so hesitant. 'The attack at the gather, Elijah. I'm sorry – I wasn't sure if you heard or not when Lord Teragon's man came to report. You didn't seem to be aware of much, after. I know we should have talked about it before now, but things happened and I suppose I just hoped you would be safe here, at least until Frideth clutches, and I could—we would be on our guard anywhere else.'

Elijah heard the worry in Sea'n's voice and at once forgave him for thinking he could always come to his rescue.

'We heard about it, at Igen,' S'ttan said. 'Our green-riders came back full of the tale of you being accosted, but they didn't say you'd actually been injured. They were all admiration for the fact that Sea'n had floored the thug and that he still couldn't walk when they dragged him away.' He smiled as Sea'n wriggled uneasily. 'It was hard to believe anyone could be so stupid as to attack a rider – and more, that Frideth hadn't torn him apart on the spot, whatever he said or did. In fact, quite a few of the older riders thought that a good idea, once they finished complaining that the harpers can't be doing much of a job if a queen-rider as distinctive as you isn't recognized! But I should have asked if you were hurt, I'm sorry. How bad was it?'

'It wasn't, really,' Elijah said, just as Sea'n said, 'Skin scraped raw, severe and extensive bruising, and one shoulder almost pulled right out of joint!'

Elijah crinkled his nose and insisted that he was all right again now, and Sea'n said it had been less than a sevenday since it happened and he needn't think Sea'n hadn't noticed he wasn't wearing anything that didn't button easily so he didn't have to ask for help or that Sea'n hadn't heard him groan if he moved too—

Sea'n stopped in mid-sentence as Elijah looked at S'ttan and grinned, and S'ttan grinned back. Then S'ttan asked casually if Elijah had noticed what a worrywart Sea'n could be at times, and Elijah said with an _almost _straight face that it had never occurred to him.

But S'ttan was perfectly serious when he said, 'It's because you think first of safety that you're – you _were _– such a good Weyrleader. If S'rone had learned to do that—'

'It's obviously what I failed to teach him,' Sea'n said, sadly.

'You can't teach those who won't learn, and he obviously thought he knew better,' Elijah said, knowing that, whatever anyone said, Sea'n would always blame himself.

Sea'n shrugged. 'Too late, whichever way. But I _should_ have told you, Elijah. Lord Teragon's man reported that the thug had more marks than any laborer could have earned honestly. And Crista… Crista knew too much about you that day, what you were wearing, how—how you looked. I'm sure she must have had us watched, and I truly believe that she was the one who paid those marks, even if someone else must have arranged it for her.'

'Strange behavior for a queen-rider,' S'ttan said.

Elijah looked at him and said distantly, 'Perhaps.'

He watched then as Sea'n and S'ttan exchanged dismayed glances; they too had remembered at last that Elijah was a queen-rider and they rode only bronze. That of the three of them, he alone had the right to criticize - the duty, should it be necessary, to confront Crista.

In his pleasure at talking together – like other people, Elijah thought, like _friends_ – he had forgotten his difference. Now it was made plain to him yet again and he could not ignore it. The most basic tenet of Weyr protocol could not be set aside simply because he found it painful to apply.

Suddenly Crista was no longer simply a jealous, possibly spiteful rival for Sea'n's affections, but queen-rider, Weyrwoman and peer to Elijah. Bronze-riders might find fault with a weyrwoman privately between themselves, but beyond that only a formal complaint to another queen-rider, or in the last resort to the Council of Queens, was permitted to them. Only the Council could discipline her should that be necessary.

He was sure the precept must be relaxed between loving weyrmates, but he and Sea'n did not ever speak of Crista when they were alone together. And he could not permit unfounded censure of his equal before bronze-rider S'ttan at all.

Unhappily, he rose to his feet. 'A queen-rider may not be accused without certain evidence. She may not be arraigned before the Council unless fault is clearly established. And in this case it would be better to make no accusation at all,' he said.

Both riders stood and bowed to him.

'My deepest apologies, Weyr-rider,' S'ttan said formally.

'And mine.' Sea'n laid his hand on his heart.

'Accepted,' said Elijah, as he walked away.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	11. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…to ride a queen was to be set apart…_

Sea'n stood watching as Elijah climbed the steps up to their weyr - back straight, head high and proud as befitted the rider of a golden queen. Elijah, who could curb the mating lust of a powerful dragon with nothing more than the strength of his will in her mind. Elijah, who waited unflinching for a huge fist to smash into his face, knowing that he must control his queen, that he could not call upon her for the help that would mean a swift death for his stupid, misguided assailant. Elijah, who could laugh and joke like any other rider and yet reassert his position in an instant, at need.

In that rigid stance Sea'n read not only his pride in what he was but also regret for what that had meant here. He knew instinctively how strong Elijah had been and must be in order to maintain his own separation. As soon as he realized that he had let down his guard, he had done the right thing. He had taken back control without hesitation.

Sea'n wanted him more than ever.

'Sea'n? _Sea'n!_'

He heard S'ttan's voice then and wondered how long he had been staring at the empty space where stair became tunnel. When he turned, S'ttan was watching _him_, distress clear upon his face.

'I am sorry, Sea'n. It was wrong of me to say what I did in front of Elijah. I would never have been so free with such criticism before any other queen-rider.'

'No,' Sea'n replied absently, his mind still lingering with Elijah.

'He is so easy to talk to that I forgot that—that he is what he is, and not one with us.'

'I know,' Sea'n said. 'I forget, too, when I above all others should know it because he rides my dragon's queen. But to me he is simply _Elijah_ \- and _what_ he is counts for less than it should.' More than anyone else, S'ttan would understand that Elijah was everything to him, though Sea'n could not put it into words; must not, when S'ttan…

'Sea'n, do you _really_ think that Crista would—?' He stopped, not even wanting to name it now.

'Yes, and I do not say it lightly. She was too knowing, too acquiescent, too intent upon _some_thing, to have left the gather as early as she did without challenging Elijah in any way at all. But I cannot prove it without disregarding his wish that the matter should be let lie. He asked only that the man and whatever hold he came from should be taught to know dragonkind better – which, I have to admit, is far more practical and to the point than what _I_ would like to have done, then and after!'

'My warning – I came to say that she might… I don't know, spread rumors about you, undermine your standing in your new Weyr, try to damage Elijah with unpleasant insinuations, or something of that nature. I truly did not think that she would…'

'I would not have believed such a thing of her before this, either,' Sea'n said, 'though she was ever loath to relinquish anything she believed to be hers.'

'I hope I haven't—will this make things more difficult for you?'

'You didn't speak the Weyrwoman amiss, S'ttan, _I_ did. The thought - the accusation - was mine alone. More difficult?' He shrugged, ruefully. 'Perhaps, though I hope not, and especially not for Elijah. It's possible that it might even be less so, if he will talk to me about this, when…'

'When there is not a stranger present who should never hear such things,' S'ttan finished for him. 'Of course. Please convey my apologies to him again.'

Sea'n nodded. 'If you see the need - though the fault was far more mine than yours.'

'He is not at all what I expected,' S'ttan said then, and immediately looked as though he wished he had not, as Sea'n raised his brows. He tried again. 'A queen-rider who is –for all that he is so—' He was stumbling for the right word, now.

'Pretty?' Sea'n supplied. 'You can say it. There are many who do - especially when they think I am not listening!'

'Beautiful, I would say. For all that he is so beautiful, he is not—he is nothing like a girl.'

'No,' Sea'n agreed quietly. 'He is not a girl, not in the least like a weyrwoman, nor any green-rider, either - woman _or_ girl. And as for the males…' He shook his head in complete denial. 'Elijah is many things - but completely unlike every rider I have known before. He is only himself.'

'I had not realized how lonely it must have been for him,' S'ttan said slowly.

'Few people would. It was not something _I_ had ever thought about, until Elijah.' But, again, S'ttan would probably understand far better than most what it meant to have something central to his life that he could share with no-one else. It was not something Sea'n could ask - and nor should S'ttan have to bear this reminder of what neither of them would mention here at all.

S'ttan looked away, quickly. 'I think, perhaps, you will change that for him, given time.' He gave Sea'n a smile that did not quite reach his eyes. 'I must go - I do not think he will wish to see _my_ face again for a while!' He collected up his riding gear and began to put on his jacket.

'Don't worry,' Sea'n said. 'You brought a gentle warning, that was all – nothing more than watching a friend's back. I was the one to make a serious and unproven accusation. I do believe it, though why Crista should so suddenly take leave of her senses is more than I can say. But Elijah is not one to bear grudges, and you are truly welcome to stay for the meal.'

'No, better not,' S'ttan said. 'Another day perhaps, when he has had time to forget my bad manners!' He paused, tugging unmindful at the buckle on the riding helmet that dangled from his hand. 'What will you do now, Sea'n?'

'I don't know. Elijah is the one who must say what happens next, not I. I shall go to him, make sure that he knows that I do understand how different he is and must be. Try to explain how it was that I could forget and that it will not happen again if I can help it, and then - well, we shall see. I think that he has become too used to being alone. It may be that he no longer has need of a friend with whom to share what doubts and fears he may - or perhaps it is simply that he will no longer admit to needing one. He must decide, I can only wait and see.'

'You should not look so worried either, Sea'n. He will decide aright, I am sure of it. And, after all, did not someone say, _Elijah is not one who bears grudges_?'

Sea'n managed a grin in answer to S'ttan's reassuring smile. 'I believe I heard so, somewhere!' he said.

S'ttan finished fastening the stiff wher-hide, putting on helmet and gloves as they walked out to where his bronze waited. And if they said little more before Zendreth rose into the air, the warmth of friendship between them was no less than ever it had been.

Slowly Sea'n made his way to the weyr, hoping that Elijah would have had time to think; not knowing quite how he should begin, wanting so much just to hold him until he understood that Sea'n was there for him should he need a friend he could trust, with whom he might talk without restraint. Though he was not entirely sure Elijah would want him there at all, he needed to make the offer.

Almost from the first, he had understood that it was not simply being _the boy who rides a queen_, nor even his fear of being mated, that had set Elijah apart - and Sea'n knew from Candessa how very separate he had been since Frideth hatched.

Even a girl who Impressed gold must find it difficult to be thrust suddenly into the select group of women who held the future of Pern in their hands. He remembered the hatchling queen when he Impressed Sammath, and Jacela her rider who must learn to bathe and oil and care for her dragonet just as he did, even to butcher and prepare the meat to feed her. He remembered also that Weyrlingmaster R'bant was far more polite in his chivvying of her than of any other under his tutelage. Though he did not fail to correct her when necessary, his respect for her and for Calaranth was unmistakable; where he led, his weyrlings followed. Those first few hectic sevendays were wonderful; the days of finding, of beginning to understand your lifebond with a dragon – _with Sammath!_ But by the time they were done and the teaching began in earnest, each weyrling understood already that, much though she must be the same, a queen-rider was entirely separate and special.

They were taught as one group what was common to all, but then Sea'n discovered the many responsibilities of Weyrleadership with S'ttan and the rest of the bronze-riders while the others learned the separate duties of their dragons' color - and there were the deepest friendships formed. But Jacela made none, for not one of her clutchmates would learn – could share - what a queen-rider must know. And for all that his lessons had been extensive, Sea'n knew that a weyrwoman must learn more still, for the fate of her Weyr – of Pern itself – may one day lie with her and with her queen.

He watched her grow more distant as Calaranth matured, bonding instead with the handful of gold-riders at Igen. Although she was so much their junior, it was only with them that she could be entirely easy – as smiling and talkative as seemed no longer quite possible, except with her peers. _They_ all knew, and could share that knowing; the weyrwomen had each other.

For Elijah there had been no-one. There _was_ no-one on Pern who could understand what it meant to be both queen-rider and boy. To ride a queen was to be set apart - and Elijah was set apart in every way.

And yet, for Sea'n, Elijah had changed. For Sea'n, he had left his relentless, solitary studies to help him adapt to Telgar and the Weyr to him. However separate he had been before, with Sea'n he was himself becoming as much a part of weyrlife as ever he might be - and the adjustment must be difficult for him.

Sea'n felt to have been gifted with far more than he could have hoped – having Elijah for weyrmate was like having another bronze-rider to friend, but with the sharp edge of this new desire. Before Elijah, it had been always for girls and then for weyrwomen - Sammath had even flown Calaranth on her maiden flight, but Jacela had not wanted a settled mate and Sea'n felt no more for her than for any rider whose queen Sammath had won. Now he was aroused only by the strength and humor, intelligence and beauty that made up this one young man.

Though Elijah had granted him so much already, Sea'n knew he wanted yet more - more even than a weyrmating in deed. He wanted - _needed_ \- to love and be loved by Elijah as long and as deeply as the first Sean with his Sorka. From Crista he had expected – had asked – no such thing; they had been content together, in and out of their bed, but he had not then known himself capable of the tenderness that Elijah had awakened in him. Now, he needed also to give to Elijah in return; to help him lose himself - for them both to become lost to their love-making, though it might be just for that little while.

As it was, there was only this that he could offer: that he would be always there for Elijah.

_I will share with him what I may - and in my mind, at least, I shall hold him close through whatever I may not…_

But when he reached the entrance to their weyr, he stopped abruptly. A riding strap was hung across the doorway.

With a sigh he turned away. Though he had more than half-expected it, yet still his rejection hurt. Elijah must surely have need of a friend now, if he could not want him as a lover – and he did not want Sea'n there at all.

As he retraced his steps down to the caverns – it could not be long until the meal and he would give a hand where he _was _needed – Sea'n wondered if he should find out whether the record room here at Telgar also provided a bed for late readers.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

_By all the Skies, he _is_ beautiful! _

And a true queen-rider, saving only the one way he cannot be. It was his right to speak so, for that is_ who he is – it was our wrong to lose sight of it. _

Elijah seemed so slight, to have strength to match a queen of Frideth's stature - a flight like hers came to no ordinary queen. Rider and dragon were set apart even from their peers – Frideth by that flight and by the rider she had chosen, Elijah by that choice and by who he was.

Sea'n had said not a word of what Elijah may look like, and S'ttan had not known what to expect. Certainly not this boy who was as beautiful in his way as Crista in hers. She knew it and awaited homage; Elijah seemed not to know at all. A wild tangle of locks that fell forward when he laughed, the bluest of eyes… but it was not simply how he looked. He had a quick mind and a wry wit, too – and courage aplenty, it seemed. S'ttan had seen respect as well as concern in Sea'n's face as he spoke of the attack and of the injuries that Elijah had lightly dismissed.

Sea'n was right to want Elijah, to love him, much though it may hurt to see it so plainly. S'ttan could smile at himself for thinking that Sammath always chose and caught the best for his rider - who was himself the very best.

Zendreth stirred a little in his mind – a formless protest that S'ttan soothed with a thought.

_You could not win for me what I sought, my friend, and my sorrow is none of your making._

He hugged Zendreth's neck beneath him as they soared away from Telgar Weyr, but the emptiness settled once more, somewhere deep within his breast. He was a rider, and his greatest bond must be always to his dragon; Zendreth was one with him but his love and desire were for Sea'n - who would have made them whole. S'ttan missed him more than he had thought possible. A friendship so long and so close could not be easily replaced, if ever - setting aside the heartache that Sea'n's absence gave him. They had been together as friends, had done so many things together over the turns that he felt now to be learning to live without a part of himself. Only in Threadfall, for he led his own wing, was he whole and alive and unaffected by his loss - a poor reason for anticipating Thread with more eagerness than fear these days. And between Falls, he could throw himself into improving the wing's fighting skills - as he knew Sea'n would have done - and could almost forget anything else. Almost.

In the dark spaces of the night, when Zendreth was safely sleeping, he allowed himself to worry about his dragon. Zendreth was rising in fewer flights these days. He had flown for many dragons, green and queen alike, in days gone by and won not a few – had flown even for Allibeth, when he knew he had no hope of winning. Her flights had always been a form of rivalry between Zendreth and Sammath that Zendreth had been happy to concede, leaving S'ttan then too relieved for words. S'ttan wondered if he would rise the next time that she flew, and suspected he would not; the shadow of his own loss had fallen upon his dragon, and he knew that he was inhibiting Zendreth. There was no dragon, gold or green, with whom his bronze had wished to weyrmate, any more than _he_ had wanted any of their riders, female or male, once the dragon-lust was satisfied. Zendreth was vigorous enough; his hide still held the sheen of perfect health, his flight was free and fast as ever - but like his rider he lacked the one last spark that would complete him.

_We are together,_ Zendreth said then, and his love was solace in S'ttan's mind.

_We are - and I would not lose that even to have Sea'n for my own._

That is as well, for Frideth's rider will have him always, now!

I know it, for Sea'n truly loves, at last. And he is loved in return whether he understands it yet or no, for I see in Elijah the same unanswered love that I know from within…

It was a measure of that unexpected love that Sea'n could desire Elijah at all, for Sea'n had mated only females before him. S'ttan had long ago accepted that he could have no more of Sea'n than friendship, that they never could be lovers. He had learned through the turns that their friendship was a precious thing in itself, and he had almost let go of his hope, keeping it as a thought to warm him in the empty nights. When Sea'n first told him of Elijah, whom he wanted but could not ever have beyond Sammath's and Frideth's need, that he too craved the unattainable - S'ttan had quelled the sudden sharp longing, pointless and fleeting, that he might offer himself in Elijah's stead. _Let me love you,_ he had yearned to say. _Why should we both suffer? _

But he could not be Elijah for Sea'n, just as no-one could ever be Sea'n for him – he had learned too well that a body for relief was that alone, and never a mate for mind or heart. Sea'n must also feel that; such an offer would not only be refused – gently and with compassion, but refused all the same – it must lie between them always. To grasp for what more he desired would be to lose his friend indeed. Nothing was worth that.

Now that he had met Elijah, S'ttan knew more than ever that he had been right, that for Elijah there could be no substitute - and more than that, what he sensed between Sea'n and Elijah was far beyond weyrmating.

Two riders of different Weyrs - their meeting ordained by a bronze dragon, sealed by a golden queen - and they belonged together as he never had thought could be. Weyrmates in name only, Sea'n had said, but S'ttan could see already that they would not long remain so. Had it been in his gift he would have given them to each other, to make one perfect whole of these two halves that had not yet found their fit - but the finding was theirs to do.

~~~~\~~/~~~~

 

_The queen-rider will dedicate herself to the perpetuation of her Weyr and of dragonkind …_

The queen-rider will discharge her responsibilities without …

The queen-rider is autonomous, saving only …

The queen-rider will ensure at all times …

The queen-rider must maintain …

The queen-rider will never …

The queen-rider may not …  
  
He knew it all, too well.

Safely hidden in his weyr Elijah sagged onto the bed and swallowed hard. He would not betray himself by crying over this. The biggest part of the problem, of course, was that he was _not_ a girl. Would a girl who rode a queen have found what he had just done so difficult? The question contained its own fallacy, for a girl would never have needed in the first place to forget the most vital of the codes and protocol that held Pern together. She would not have known Elijah's need, would not understand exactly why his throat was tight and his eyes prickled, why his head felt to throb in time to the beat of his heart. She would never have known his futile desire for someone to share what he was feeling.

_She_ would never have been on the brink of trading a principle for companionship.

One thing that the queen-rider meetings had taught him was that they supported each other beyond each Weyr's small circle. The point of every meeting was less what was on the agenda than what emerged when it was finally thrown open to discussion. It became less meeting than one wide-ranging conversation, roaming freely over any topic a weyrwoman might wish to air, on which she might need to consult her peers, or merely to talk through with them. Amongst equals she could bring up any problem, learn from experience far wider than her own, and receive advice if not a solution. As he grew older Elijah had not failed to notice that by the time a reluctant close was drawn, most of the weyrwomen seemed more settled, more relaxed; and that in those meetings, he was more the outsider than ever.

A second thing he learned was that, however willing they might be, they could support him only in the most practical of ways. His mind could not touch theirs, any more than they could conceive of what it meant to be Elijah. No-one could.

He had just done what was right. He had _upheld_, he had _maintained_ \- and it had _hurt_. Worse than that, he feared he had wounded Sea'n with his cold formality, and in truth he was frightened. He had never before wanted so very much not to be so special, so different, that he had lost sight of what he knew he must be.

Could Crista really do that? Would she betray all the inviolable precepts she had been taught as Elijah had, simply for revenge? Sea'n must be certain that she had done so or he would not have said what he did – of any rider, much less of a weyrwoman. If Sea'n was so convinced, then Elijah must believe him.

Had she actually _loved_ Sea'n, deeply enough that she would be driven to do such a thing? Did she miss him - as much as Elijah would miss him, were Sea'n suddenly to be in his life no longer? He shuddered, hastily dismissing the notion.

Perhaps, he thought resentfully then, if you were a _real_ queen-rider, you were allowed more leeway - and Crista was acknowledged to be a strong Weyrwoman, if the safer uncrossed. Though this must surely be a step beyond too far? Elijah had neither heard nor read before of a rider who behaved as a scorned spouse might within the holds - but then again, Sea'n had resigned his leadership and left both Weyr and Weyrwoman. That also was unheard of.

Elijah could not – _would_ not – believe that Crista loved Sea'n as he loved him. At the gather he had hidden for a brief glimpse of them together, and he doubted that what he had seen on Crista's face then was love - possessiveness and a desire to wound in retaliation for her rejection, perhaps, but not love as Elijah knew it now. Certainly her dancing had seemed more a weapon than a pleasure – for either of them.

What he had seen on Sea'n's face… He would like to believe that what was there was discomfort, Sea'n's only desire to avoid any unseemly outburst on Crista's part, though he could not be certain; it might so easily be his own wish that sired the thought. But it surely was not love…

And, if Sea'n had left Igen unwilling, would he even have wanted to be a friend to Elijah? Since their mating had been driven solely by Sammath's desire for Frideth, Sea'n _could_ have returned there, afterward. He could have stayed with Crista had she wanted, had he asked… Rumor spoke widely of a long weyrmating and of Sea'n's faithfulness, but never had Elijah heard mention of such rare and lasting love as was sung in harper ballads - the love that he so much wanted for himself and Sea'n.

With Sea'n, Elijah could feel - could allow himself to feel - ordinary. Together they enjoyed the ordinary things that other riders did, as though Sea'n reminded him how to be a person as well a queen-rider. He was learning once more that there was still enjoyment to be had from life in the Weyr - something he had lost sight of, somewhere between his quest to be the best queen-rider in Pern's history, and the ever-present Threadfall. His sense of being always on the outside had eased, for in so many ways Sea'n had opened the door for him, had invited him in.

_No - Sea'n walks through with me. He cannot share my difference but I can share with him that I _am_ different; and he accepts that. Accepts me. _

And even knowing that - though it hurt to do it, though he knew this to be one more setting apart - he had hung a riding strap to ward off Sea'n.

He did it _because_ he wanted Sea'n there so much. He wanted to hold him, to be held by him, to explain why he had had to be so distant, so much a queen-rider, how important it was that their position was never lightly questioned. He desperately wanted Sea'n here with him - and so he must keep him at bay until he could subdue his impulse to do what Sea'n would appreciate least right now - to offer himself in the hope that Sea'n could need him for relief and, in the taking, would help him lose himself, to be caught once more by Sea'n's broad and comforting hands.

He rolled onto his side, wanting to pretend that Sea'n was there behind him, the way he had been after the attack at Fort's gather. What happened then – exactly how he came back to the Weyr, how his injuries were soothed and eased, how he came to be abed – all was hazy and muddled in his memory. But he knew that Sea'n had been the one to do for him everything that was needed; and the one clear remembrance he could hold to – oddly focused in his mind - was of falling asleep with Sea'n's arms around him, safe and warm at last. He had probably imagined – or maybe dreamed - the kiss that settled tenderly in his hair as he was drifting into sleep, but it was solace simply to believe Sea'n might have done so.

He _had_ been there for him; there the following morning, sitting beside him, waiting for him to waken, waiting to help. Sea'n had known full well that the numbweed must wear off during the night and that Elijah would feel as bruised and battered and sore as if it had just happened. He was there to soothe away the pain, carefully spreading more weed, confessing with a sheepish grin that he'd allowed Candessa to mix the morning's dose for Elijah to drink, lest he sleep away the entire day. Sea'n was there to help him dress - very matter of fact, and regaling Elijah with good wishes from most of the Weyr, it seemed; so that between the relief from pain, and surprise and gratitude that so many folk should be concerned for him, Elijah had forgotten to be embarrassed at Sea'n seeing him naked - and worse, stained by such unsightly bruising as would not ever have disfigured his Weyrwoman.

They did not speak further of the reason it had happened, nor of whatever Crista may have said to Sea'n, then or in the days that followed. And as soon as ever Elijah could manage to spread the numbweed for himself, he declined Sea'n's help. He hated the sensation of watching Sea'n's hands coast across his skin when he could feel nothing more than a cool relief from the lingering hurt. To be touched and yet unable to feel was somehow worse than never to be touched at all.

Sea'n was so kind, so caring and, yes, a bit of a worrier but Elijah found that reassuring. He _mattered_ to Sea'n, even if Sea'n could not want him, would not love him in the way Elijah needed to be loved.

The weyrling on bell duty roused him, clanging with a will and fit to fetch folk up from the nearest hold, let alone riders and weyrfolk to the meal. Elijah went quickly down the stairs. Sea'n was alone as yet at their usual table, for there was no sign of S'ttan. He stood at once, waiting, and his smile was tentative. Elijah took a deep breath and walked across to him.

'I am sorry that I…' he said, not quite knowing how to explain without also letting Sea'n see more than he would really wish to know. 'I ride a queen and that is who I am and must be. And—and sometimes it is… difficult.' He sat down, seeing the regret so clear on Sea'n's face, hoping that he would understand and could accept the rest - the part Elijah could not easily put into words, as he held back the one that he must never speak.

'I know that, and I would never seek to undermine your position – or that of any queen-rider. You have to believe that, please. I was wrong and the apology is mine to make.' Sea'n sank slowly onto the bench. 'I am sorry that I - that _we_, for S'ttan also left his regrets - that we should have spoken so far out of turn. But you must know that it was from concern only, and not from malice.'

'Not yours alone,' Elijah said. 'It was as much that I— I allowed myself— I am still not used to…' _I am not used to needing someone the way I need you, so much that I want to forget what I _must_ be._

'Not used to sharing your life?'

Elijah nodded – Sea'n's explanation came as near to truth as he could safely admit.

'If it is your wish - if it would be easier for you,' Sea'n said slowly, 'I shall ask K'vret—'

'No!' Elijah managed not to shout. 'No,' he said, more quietly, 'for Frideth would be unhappy without Sammath at her side… and I—I would miss—' _You, Sea'n – your nearness, your caring, I would miss everything that is you!_ 'I have grown accustomed to—to having someone else about the weyr, now,' he finished.

'Thank you,' Sea'n said, and Elijah wondered that he should have briefly closed his eyes - though the thought of separating their dragons was not a pleasant one. 'Elijah, I promise that I shall do my best to ensure such a thing will never happen again. It's just—I think you so much my friend that I—that you make me forget _what_ you are and remember only _who…_'

'Enough!' Elijah said, and found that he could smile at last, pleased beyond measure that Sea'n should seem to understand, that he should think of him as _Elijah_ and not merely as the rider of his dragon's queen; that Sea'n should truly wish to be friend if he could not be lover. Elijah wanted no more of apology, now - of protocol, of Crista - of anything so serious this night. 'We shall _both_ know better another time,' he said, knowing that to be true of Sea'n, at least, though Sea'n's own wonderfully crinkled smile was for him distraction in itself.

The table began steadily to fill as other riders joined them for the meal, and conversation became general and ranged widely. But before it was over, Elijah made sure to invite L'grat to the rematch Sea'n owed him for a devastating defeat at forts and dragons. He wanted Sea'n to know that he would welcome a sociable evening in their weyr.

That the riding strap was coiled and put away, unneeded as before.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	12. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…so rewarding to tempt Elijah into making love…_

They came down last of all, in their usual lingering spiral, though Sammath no longer had the right to demand of the watch dragon what had passed in the Weyr during their absence. This habit of checking everything from the air before landing would still be a very hard one to break. It was fortunate that the Telgar Weyrleader held to no such custom, preferring to lead his riders home from Threadfall. Sea'n had no intention of usurping even the least of K'vret's prerogatives, but for seven turns – except when riders were detained, signaled by holders on the ground to help burn out burrows - he and Sammath had been the last to reach the Weyr after Fall.

The Bowl showed only a few pairs remaining in the healers' care, and none of them had more than a single attendant tending rider or dragon – sure sign of only minor injury.

_Of our wing, all is well with Cernuth and his rider_, Sammath reported. _They have taken the healing they needed and are weyred already. They were caught off balance, but Cernuth blinked quickly and Thread grazed only wher-hide and a wing-tip, before it died. _He added, as Sea'n knew he would, _A single score well-salved teaches more vigilance than any warning…_ For a moment, they shared the remembered pain of their own first battle-scars, when they had been little more than weyrlings themselves; Sammath's a similar wingtip injury, Sea'n's a thin and wavering line of white, now, between ear and cheek - a brand that had seared long after the bite of _between_; the lesson _they_ would never lose.

The Bowl drew closer and Sea'n was _nearly_ sure he could tell the figure of Elijah, even so foreshortened, as he crossed from one side to the other; it was unlikely from this height, he knew and could smile at Sammath's sly chuckle in his mind. He was slightly ashamed of being glad for another day on which neither Frideth nor her rider must fight Thread – though in this Sammath agreed with him, if his quiet hum were any measure. And, as almost always, the queens had returned to their weyrs unscathed, the gleam of gold already visible on each ledge - a relief, no matter who rode in their wing.

They had been safe enough today, for Thread had begun, these past few Falls, to drop light and intermittent instead of spreading wide its relentless sheet of silver death - a change of which no rider would complain. There seemed neither rhyme nor reason to such vagaries though they were well attested in the archive of every Weyr. By their very nature they brought both more and less danger, for each dragon/rider pair must be on the alert lest they be surprised by the slyly single strands that slid betwixt the knots and tangles. But this had been a good Fall, if such a thing might be.

The bustle down there now was all of clearing away thankfully unneeded supplies, and of preparation for the evening meal, everyone seeming to move more freely in the relief that followed a Fall with only minor injuries and few of those. Sea'n had always held a suspicion - a fancy he would admit to no-one - that the Weyr, whether Igen or Telgar (and maybe the others too, for all he knew), rejoiced or sorrowed with its riders and weyrfolk. Regardless of the fact that there was no sun to lighten the dour stone, to Sea'n's eyes it appeared just a little brighter, almost cheerful, as Sammath prepared to land.   
_  
Elijah comes… _

Elijah came across to meet them with an armful of barely-used pots of numbweed salve collected from the perimeter of the Bowl. When he looked up at Sea'n aboard Sammath, his smile was a home-coming in itself.

'If you can wait, I'll put these away and ride up to the weyr with you,' he said.

Sea'n smiled in return, stretching his arms above his head, and then grimaced.

'You are hurt?' Elijah's voice was puzzled, sharp with concern.

'Not by Thread, no. Fall came by clump and by cluster - Sammath has been proving that he is still more than lithe enough to turn on a quarter mark, but I can feel muscles I had forgotten that I owned! A bath will set all to rights soon enough.'

'Good.' Elijah was brisk now. 'The sooner the better, then. I shall take these and see you in a while. I'll bring klah.'

Sea'n had expected that. He knew just how long Elijah would delay his arrival – a respectable interval so that Sea'n would be bathed and dry and fully clothed again. He nodded and Sammath rose into the air once more, to join Frideth on her ledge.

But the time was far longer than he'd allowed, and Sea'n had almost dozed off on the long, comfortably padded seat before Elijah came into their weyr carrying two mugs and a covered plate.

'I thought I might expire from thirst before you got here!' Sea'n's grin gave the lie to his piteous whine.

'I had to wait a while, but I am sure you will revive when you see the reason why – when you see what I have brought!' Elijah countered.

He passed over one mug of klah, set down his own, and then whipped away the cloth with a flourish. On the plate lay a pair of small pastries, still steaming gently – tasters for what would come after the meal, but these two apparently made, 'Especially for Sea'n, Candessa said, but if you found that you wanted to share them with anyone, she wouldn't mind. She said.' Elijah waited, expectantly.

'Candessa said that?' Sea'n asked, his tone now patently disbelieving.

'She said that.' Elijah had on his best innocent look (which Sea'n had to admit, was very good).

'Really?' He was not giving up such a treat without making Elijah work for it.

'Yes, _really_.'

'Hmm.'

Sea'n took the first and raised it to his mouth. Elijah stared at him, obviously intending, as he would have tried with his brothers long ago, to shame him into parting with the second one. Sea'n took a tiny bite, very slowly, licking the crumbs from his mouth with a satisfied 'Mmmm!' to make sure that Elijah knew what he was missing. He pursed his lips then, to blow gently into the gap he had made at the pastry's edge, knowing that the fruit inside would likely still be bubbling, and gave a tantalizing glance from beneath his lashes. But Elijah suddenly looked down and moved away to pick up his mug of klah instead, and Sea'n flushed, realizing at once that this could so easily have been a game of seduction between them – that Elijah must think that was what Sea'n had been doing all along and so of _course_ he would be uncomfortable with it.

Sea'n finished the little treat quickly then, despite its heat; the fruit was as juicy-tart as ever, but its savor was gone. He passed the plate with the second one to Elijah, who mumbled a 'thank you' through the delectable flakiness but wouldn't look at him.

'So,' Sea'n cleared his throat. 'Why?'

'Why?' Elijah still wasn't looking – which wasn't really surprising when Sea'n thought about how the question might have sounded to someone who was already disquieted.

'Why did I deserve the pastries, when normally any attempt to acquire even one outside mealtimes would have earned me only a slapped hand and a telling off!'

'Oh.' And now Elijah did look, and even smiled. 'Because your coming here has reduced our casualties and that is a wonderful thing. I thank you for it too, truly. I really hate dealing with Threadscore.'

'I had very little to do with it, the wings did it themselves.'

'No, Sea'n, it was because of you - because you drilled your wing to _your_ standard, and showed them they could be better than any other. The rest took exception to that, of course, and worked to prove _they_ were the best. So - more care, better flying, and a great saving in pain for rider and dragon alike–' he smiled again, now, and his eyes were warm, '–and pastries for you to share, too!'

Sea'n breathed a sigh of relief. His blunder was forgiven - another stupid mistake he would take care not to repeat. But it would have been so rewarding to tease Elijah into making love - if only he had wanted it, too…

'I have been thinking about that,' Elijah said, and Sea'n's breath caught before he realized that Elijah could not possibly have read his mind, 'about the way that even friendly rivalry with an outsider makes riders want to improve their own flying – well, not only want to, but _do _it! And I remembered some things I read in the records of previous Passes that puzzled me then but make complete sense now.'

Sea'n forced himself to pay attention to whatever Elijah had meant, and let go the thoughts his mistaking had brought so swiftly.

'I thought at the time that there had been some terrible catastrophe - or perhaps a serious epidemic disease - that meant we at Telgar had to call in reinforcements from other Weyrs, but I can see now that what they were really doing was exchanging wings. Entire wings, of course, with leader and seconds. There would be no point in expecting a stranger to fit into a wing just like that. Unless, of course, he's an exceptional leader in a Weyr completely new to him…'

He grinned at Sea'n, who was both embarrassed and flattered by the sidelong compliment, but also much interested in what Elijah had discovered.

'It makes sense,' he said. 'And as long as each leader knows and stays within his wing's allotted flying level, it doesn't really matter that the wings above or to the sides aren't ones he's used to seeing there..' Elijah nodded agreement. 'Though there might be a problem—'

'—with the exchange of firestone sacs? I thought about that too, but so long as the dragonets—'

'—understand the color group and formation they're assigned to, then the _dragons_—'

'—will take care of the actual delivery timing and each can warn his or her rider when to expect it—'

'—without any need for names or knowing!'

'Yes!' They smiled at each other in satisfaction.

'A practice or two, to make sure, but it's only a change of rider, not of the task that needs doing. It will work, Elijah!'

'All we have to do is convince the other Weyrs that it's worth a try.'

'We need only one to begin with, if K'vret agrees. If we succeed between us, the fall in casualties will provide its own proof and the others will have no reason not to join us.'

'Of course he will! I'll speak to Lenara, too – and Candessa will help me talk the two of them round if need be!'

Sea'n couldn't _not_ notice how very well excitement became his Elijah, but nor could he let it affect him now. 'Come!' he said, 'Let us find K'vret and pin him down at table while we tell him of your clever and devious plan!'

~~~

It was perhaps unfortunate, for more reasons than one, that in the rotation of Weyrleader meetings it should be Igen's turn to host. K'vret had proposed Telgar in its stead, the other Weyrleaders also offering, but D'trel – confirmed now in his position as interim leader until Allibeth should rise again - insisted that what was best for the Weyr was for life to continue as normally as possible in despite of injury and loss.

Elijah had not needed Lenara's assistance in convincing K'vret, let alone Candessa's. He'd said at once that the effect on their casualties of Sea'n's arrival here was already proof enough for him that an exchange of wings between Weyrs would be worth a trial. With no hesitation at all, he agreed to put the idea to the forthcoming meeting. It may have been less than tactful to bring Sea'n along as his second, to present the evidence Elijah had collated, but one of the two was needed and better by far that it should be he and not Elijah. Setting aside that protocol would have been overturned by the presence of any queen-rider at a non-emergency Weyrleader meeting; for that queen-rider to be the one whose dragon's mating caused the previous Weyrleader to resign his Weyr would have been without precedent - not to mention undiplomatic in the extreme.

But over and above any consideration of tact or diplomacy, Sea'n had no intention of allowing Crista ever to endanger his weyrmate again. Frideth was grounded anyway, until her eggs were safely laid, and Elijah's shoulder was healing slowly, but there was no sense in allowing him anywhere near the Weyrwoman at all until she'd had time to forget, though she may never forgive. When it became clear that the meeting would indeed be held at Igen, Sea'n prepared several extremely logical arguments to counter any intention Elijah might have of accompanying K'vret. He felt to have had the wind whipped right out from under his wings when Elijah brought up the subject himself, quite casually pointing out that Sea'n could present the proposition as well or better; that he had actually changed Weyrs and so understood what might be done to smooth the transition. Sea'n agreed hastily before Elijah could change his mind, keeping his silence on the knowledge that a move to Telgar had been so easy only because of Elijah himself.

By the late afternoon, Sea'n was almost prepared to reconsider his decision to attend. It had nothing to do with re-visiting Igen as the representative of another Weyr; he'd expected that to feel odd, and it did, but not so much that it bothered him. He enjoyed a few brief words with a handful of his old riders before the meeting began, though he'd only managed a raised brow in S'ttan's direction - meant to indicate a visit with him later if there was time - before he was swept away to the record room. Of Crista there had been no sign, for which he could only be thankful.

What did bother him was the fact that the meeting itself had ended what seemed like hours ago, and he'd _still_ not managed to reclaim Elijah's papers and take his leave. He sighed. Not for nothing was it said that if the Spring Games had included a talking competition, the Master Archivist would have carried the honors against anyone, anywhere, harper or no. Sea'n wasn't sure how he could have forgotten, for he remembered it quite clearly once it was far too late.

Perrenac had a shrewd mind and a wonderful baritone voice, and he was never short of something to say. He had a most engaging way of wishing to share the immense fund of knowledge in his head; it was unfortunate only that - in the way of true enthusiasts everywhere - he would insist upon dispensing every last detail, when most listeners would have been perfectly content with a broad outline. Somewhat less engagingly, the habit extended also to his own thoughts and opinions - he spoke aloud what others would tactfully guard within. He could prove remarkably disconcerting at times, though he had not a shard of malice in him and was most upset should he find that his words had caused offence. Sea'n was relieved once more that Elijah had not come today for had he been here right now, Perrenac's candid conjectures on the finer points of their weyrmating might have been even more comprehensive, and his animadversions on Sea'n's change of allegiance downright embarrassing. Elijah, too, might have secretly smiled as much as he squirmed, but he would probably have preferred not to hear some of the more ingenuous remarks on the mating of males, or a selection of guileless questions as to Frideth's opinion on the matter. Sea'n did not want Elijah made uncomfortable because of him.

On the whole, Perrenac's comments on Elijah's charts and his review of the Telgar records were very positive - but he still wanted to cross check them for himself, first against Igen's - 'It would be such a pity to waste the opportunity, since we are here, don't you agree, bronze-rider?' - and later with those in the Harper Hall's own archive. It was the need to bring home all Elijah's work that kept Sea'n here when the Masterharper, Weyrleaders and seconds sidled off quietly just as soon as the meeting was closed. D'trel had promptly followed them, on the hearty pretext of seeing his fellow leaders on their separate ways. Sea'n knew from experience that his signal failure to return had everything to do with the fact that D'trel was honor bound to invite Perrenac to stay for the evening meal, to converse with him (_listen to him…_) throughout, and then personally to return him to his Hall on Menogeth. The need for a temporary respite was perfectly understandable, only annoying in that Sea'n could have used his return as cover for his own escape.

And that would surely be much easier, Sea'n thought, if Perrenac could only be maneuvered away from the fascination of the records. Repeated assurances that he was 'just making a note of this' were interspersed with his recollections of what also might be found within a particular record. Elijah would have enjoyed this part, Sea'n thought, he found dusty old archives interesting too, and he would have been almost as likely to bounce from one to the next saying, 'Look at this, the Weyrleader in 408…' and, 'You know, the very same thing happened in, let me see, 533, so far as I remember – no, 53_5_, dear me, my memory is shocking these days…' Well, perhaps not quite that, but Elijah too could get quite carried away by his reading, and would definitely have found Igen's records worth more than just a cursory glance.

Finally, by fetching to the surface of the drift of papers and scrolls a particularly complicated-looking chart, Sea'n managed to direct all of Perrenac's attention to that so he could stealthily shuffle together Elijah's notes and lists, and twitch them from the line of sight. The charts were to be copied at the Harper Hall and stood in no need of a rescue. He rolled the papers as inconspicuously as he could, dropping them carefully into his carrysac beneath the wide table. Then, ostentatiously, he began to put on his jacket and gathered up the rest of his riding gear, slinging the sac casually over his shoulder. Even as he edged his way toward the door, Perrenac was still talking. Though Sea'n tried for a farewell, the words kept on coming, along with a confiding hand to his arm – further explanation, apparently, of something of which he had lost track some time ago. It lasted all the way across the Bowl to where Sammath was waiting and continued even as Sea'n attached the sac carefully to his harness. He swung himself astride Sammath's neck, fastening wher-hide about him - quite obviously preparing to fly, but still hoping for the chance to get in a polite goodbye. Perrenac remained oblivious, and seemed perfectly prepared to risk a crick in his neck from craning upward to continue his narration for Sea'n's benefit and delight.

And then, without warning, there came a glistening fall of something as silver in the sunlight as Thread, a narrow cascade that streamed full onto Sea'n's unprotected head and slithered eagerly down inside the half-closed jacket.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	13. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…'Don't stop,' Sea'n said, and his voice was hoarse…_

Elijah had never any intention of attending the meeting at Igen Weyr. Setting aside the not-to-be-ignored fact that he rode gold, not bronze, and was therefore totally ineligible to do so, he was quite happy for Sea'n to explain their proposal. He had, after all, initiated it in the first place with the challenge he set for Telgar. As a former weyrleader he would have more authority, anyway, to explain the charts Elijah had carefully constructed from the records. Elijah's lists may show how Weyrleaders in earlier Passes had allocated riders and rotated wings, but Sea'n's long experience in handling his Weyr could translate numbers and dates into rider and dragon pair - into vigilance for their well-being; into making sure that none of them lost the sense of belonging to their own Weyr; into an understanding that the principle of novelty should not be allowed to become over-familiar in itself.

In truth, Elijah had no wish to visit Igen, even - or perhaps especially not - with Sea'n. This return had to awaken many memories for him, and Elijah knew somehow that if there were demons amongst them, it was better for Sea'n to face them alone. He no longer had any real belief that Sea'n would not come back to him, only a quiet unease that he could _almost_ ignore.

He definitely did not wish to risk crossing paths with Crista yet, at least until his shoulder was completely healed. If he trusted Sea'n at all - and he did - he must also trust in Sea'n's conviction that she was the one responsible for the attack upon him. He had to accept that, though it went against everything that he had ever learned about queen-rider behavior - against the basic tenets of his own life. There was no easy way to resolve such a conflict of mind and heart; the only thing he could do was to wait - for proof or unlikely contradiction. But he would be very wary of any future situation where Crista may be present.

He smiled then, knowing perfectly well just why Sea'n had been so pleased when he'd said that Sea'n and not he should go to this meeting. Wherever Elijah went from now on, wherever _they_ went, he knew Sea'n would be constantly on watch; he would not again allow his change of queen and Weyr to endanger his new weyrmate. That Sea'n should worry so much for his safety - trying hard not to be obvious about it and not _quite_ managing it - was… endearing.

While he stacked the last of the records he'd used for his research, Elijah thought of the many things that made him so very Sea'n - like that need to protect without seeming to. His almost casual glance over Frideth's harness before they flew - as cautious as over Sammath's, that made Elijah feel guarded rather than insulted by his need to do so. Sea'n's cheerful enthusiasm, that could coax into shape a jaded wing, tired from the repetitive dangers of a Pass that had lasted too long already; the warmth of his care for and interest in his riders. Elijah somehow recognized and quickly left to Sea'n, those who came covertly to their weyr seeking a reassurance they would never admit to and could find nowhere else. His wide experience as a Weyrleader, not flaunted but quietly _there_, so valuable that K'vret had quickly come to rely on his advice.

Sea'n seemed so strong always and he gave so much to others. Elijah wondered what he may need in return - what _he_ could possibly give that Sea'n would truly need.

He was on his way to the record room with a last precarious armful when Sammath shouted _Elijah!_ sharply in his mind. Elijah dropped everything he was holding and ran back to their weyr. Sammath called again, clearly distressed now, and his claws were harsh on their ledge as Frideth joined her weyrmate's solicitous croon inside Elijah's head.

Sea'n was a mere huddle on his dragon's neck - helmet and gloves clutched convulsively in one hand, hair straggled tight to his head. Elijah barely waited for Sammath to offer a foreleg. He scrambled up beside Sea'n, gasping at the chill from the icy-wet shirt and trousers beneath mostly dry, unfastened wher-hide.

'Sea'n, what—? You're soaked! You haven't come _between_ like that?'

''N-n-n-o ch-ch-choice!' Sea'n tried to say, his teeth chattering so much Elijah found it hard to tell the words. But answers were less important than getting Sea'n warm again, and quickly. Elijah eased him into a slide from Sammath's helpfully dipped neck, leaping down to steady his landing and putting arms around him to guide him into the weyr.

Sea'n muttered something about S-s-s-Sammmmmmath, then, and what might have been C-c-c-Crissss-t-t-a came next, but Elijah was too busy tugging him past two worried dragons to make out anything more. Prising helmet and gloves from stiff fingers, he pulled off the useless wher-hide jacket, and hurried Sea'n as fast as leaden legs could move toward the bathing room. He gave silent thanks yet again for the flow of water that rose, warm and constant, from deep within the heart of Pern.

_I had to bring Sea'n home,_ Sammath said, and Elijah could _hear_ that his eyes were whirling with anxiety. _You will make him better? _

I shall warm him and he will be well, Elijah assured him, propping his weyrmate against the side of the pool.

Sea'n simply stood there and shivered, eyes closed, as though that took every ounce of strength he had and left none for moving further. Elijah debated for a second and decided it would be better just to get him into the water and worry about the clothes when he had warmed up a little. His shirt chilled Elijah's fingers as he touched it, and the buttons were small and fiddly and would take forever to undo - and the material would cling, cold and clammy, to Sea'n's skin and have to be peeled away, wasting time when he was losing even more heat. He sat Sea'n on the pool edge, pulled off his boots – thankful that they weren't as close-fitting as his own - swung his legs around over the water and pushed him slowly down into it.

'Ahh!'

The warmth of the water may have come as nearly as much of a shock as the cold, though a much pleasanter one, from the relief in Sea'n's voice. Another 'Ahhhh!' was much more appreciative, and he kept his eyes closed, ducking down to lose the chill from his hair beneath the roiling water.

Elijah dithered for a moment or two and then knelt by the bath, folding a towel the way he remembered Sea'n had done for him. He took Sea'n's head gently between his hands, tendrils of warmed hair swirling softly through his fingers. 'Lie back,' he said, and felt the tension in him relax as Sea'n let himself be guided onto the cushioned edge. 'It is my turn to look after you!' The heat was obviously soaking quickly through for the shivers soon eased from full body shaking to a judder of the shoulders, to a jitter of his lips, and finally ceased altogether.

He used another towel to dry Sea'n's hair as best he could, no longer as worried as he had been. Sea'n's breathing came more evenly now, and the narrow blue-white line of his mouth had begun to soften, plumping to a healthy pink once more. Most comforting of all, Sammath's and Frideth's croon had slid from sharp worry to soft encouragement. Elijah rolled up his sleeves and dipped his hands under the water to begin work on the fiddly buttons. Sea'n's eyelids flickered but stayed shut.

'Can you tell me what happened?'

'Meeting was short,' Sea'n said, his voice stilted and slow but no longer stuttering with cold. 'First trial will be Telgar and Benden. Most riders left quickly.' He was quiet for a moment and then managed a wry smile as he added, 'K'vret's was the fastest escape!'

K'vret had arrived back in the Weyr a good while before Sammath shot out of _between_, Sea'n curled tightly on his neck and not even strapped on, which proved he was in trouble. But that little touch of humor surely had to mean that he was feeling much better already - and wasn't it just like him to give the full tale, and not simply a quick explanation?

'Why? Oh, Perrenac!'

'Who else? I was left with him. Had to bring back your work. He—' Sea'n broke off, and there was a noticeable pause before he added, 'He always needs to _know_.'

'I've met him!' Elijah smiled wryly. He had been both fascinated and disconcerted by the harper several times. Judging from the artless questions on being a male queen-rider that he'd posed at their first meeting - into which he had neatly if unwittingly compressed all of Elijah's own worst fears about his eventual mating - he had no trouble believing that Perrenac's _need to know_ had been set loose upon Sea'n. But he could be unintentionally very funny as well as really embarrassing, and it would have been good to share that. It was all too likely, though, that some of the comments and questions would touch too nearly on aspects of their weyrmating that Sea'n would prefer to forget until their next time - that Elijah wanted so much and his weyrmate must not want at all.

'Well, you can imagine, then.' His voice was stronger and more even now, though he was carefully avoiding details - proof, Elijah thought sadly, of just how uncomfortable he had been.

'He was really interested in your research. Full of praise for how clear the charts are.' It was good to know that the Master Archivist approved his work, but even better that Sea'n smiled again when he reported it, as though maybe a little proud of him.

'We were in the record room, so he just _had_ to see what the Igen records said. He was enthralled - and _I_ couldn't get away. No chance to visit with S'ttan - I thought I'd never escape at all unless we flew, so I asked Sammath to come down for me.'

'Frideth and I had to do that too, when we went to the Harper Hall!' Elijah had spent a very interesting afternoon there, but when the time came to leave he found himself similarly trapped by Perrenac's enthusiasm.

He could tell that the end of Sea'n's tale was close now, for tension creased his forehead to a frown as he remembered.

'I was aboard and fastening up, almost ready to go - with Perrenac still talking, of course. And then— then the water hit me from above. It felt cold enough to burn—' He stopped abruptly and shuddered, and Elijah understood the instant of unreasoning fear that any attack from above must bring. Anger clenched up his stomach and choked in his throat at anyone callous enough to do such a thing – and was echoed across his mind in a roil of red fury from their dragons.

'Sammath leapt into _between_, right there from the ground. But Crista's voice followed us into the dark - and she was laughing…'

_You cried out. I thought that you were in pain._ Sammath was apologetic now, his tone subdued.

'I was only shocked, my friend - but you snatched us away as fast as if the danger were real, and for that I thank you!' Sea'n said it aloud, too, clearly telling Elijah that he would not blame Sammath for his sudden freezing.

_I thank you too, Sammath,_ Elijah said, warm and approving. The time for rage, for enmity – _for Crista_ – must come later; he had hurts of mind and body to soothe, now. _You brought him back to me, and that was the best thing you could do. _

I know, the bronze said, and he sounded comforted.

Four of the buttons had yielded to Elijah's careful fingers already. The fifth lay right on Sea'n's stomach, pulled tight against him by the waistband of his trousers. Elijah wasn't sure that he would want to be touched there, but Sea'n was silent and had not opened his eyes once since he got into the bath. Elijah couldn't tell what he might want and would not ask in case Sea'n told him to stop. He put off the moment of decision by going instead to the ones on his sleeves.

The water sloshed a little as Sea'n moved his free arm to undo the top button of his trousers and pull out his shirt.

Elijah was startled and unsure what that meant, if anything beyond the fact that there were two more buttons for him to deal with. He fumbled both of them but at last the fabric floated free, whirling outward on the endless movement of the water.

He stared, greedily. They were so—so _polite_ with each other, he thought ruefully, neither ever dressing nor undressing where the other could properly see. Such hurried glimpses as Elijah had caught gave him no time to appreciate what lay beneath Sea'n's clothing. And in their mating his mind had been lost to him, shifting - confused and needy and hopeful - somewhere between Frideth and Sea'n; what he knew of Sea'n's body was all and only learned in response to Sea'n's touching of him.

He had expected the thatch of hair across Sea'n's chest, from the tickling brush that inflamed his nipples in the last unending moment before the incredible smooth slide of nakedness against his own. His skin held close its memory of Sea'n's fingers upon him, so clever and so very persuasive; of his mouth, at once tender and insistent - seeming always to know how and where and exactly when Elijah needed such caresses far better than he did himself. His hands remembered clearly the flex and tighten of muscle in Sea'n's strong shoulders and along his back as they fumbled wildly for a hold to ground him through the caprices of his queen; through the roil of dragon-lust that careened to its shining crest within him, sweeping aside both fear and inexperience and leaving only a desperate desire for Sea'n to take him as Frideth yielded finally to Sammath. And inside was the knowledge of _broad_ and _blunt_ and _too big_ that melted all together into ecstasy…

Here was Sea'n spread before him at last - strength and vigor and gentleness under smooth golden skin; he may not touch, but he could look without hindrance, for still Sea'n's eyes had not opened.

His body hair was slightly curly even when wet. Dry, it would be paler, Elijah thought, with hints of copper, and perhaps crimp tightly in upon itself; at present it undulated gently above nipples still peaked from the cold. He could feel again Sea'n's fingers caressing his own, Sea'n's tongue upon them as deftly arousing now as then, for their response was swift and eager to his memory of Sea'n's love-making, and to seeing him lie defenseless - and so desirable - this way. He wondered if he might do that for Sea'n and knew he didn't dare try, though his fingers twitched of their own accord, owning already the rise of each firm nub against their tips. His tongue edged out, willing him to taste _…to suck and nip and flicker…_ until each stood taut and wanting as his own…

Then his eyes strayed downward with the narrowing line of curl that darkened as it slipped out of sight beneath the remaining trouser buttons.

'Don't stop,' Sea'n said, and his voice was hoarse.

Elijah's gaze flicked upward to his face, where Sea'n was rosy with heat now, the fine, pale waver of an old Threadscore clear as never before, his lashes all tangled in the damp and his mouth red and warm and—

_Inviting?_

Of their own accord Elijah's hands reached forward through water that surged and billowed around them - rising up under fabric, too, and surely enhancing what was there beneath? Then his fingers met cloth and he knew what lay behind was no water-borne illusion but real and full - and very hard.

Sea'n's eyes flashed open and Elijah gasped at their sudden green.

'Elijah? May I come in?'

Meretin didn't wait for a reply this time either, for he came right through into the bathing room with further questions on the heels of his request. 'Where is Sea'n? Ah, there! _How_ is he? What happened? _Is_ he hurt? At least a dozen of his riders insist they saw him return slumped over Sammath's neck, right here on Frideth's ledge, and that he must be hurt!'

Sea'n's eyes snapped shut once more, just as Elijah sagged back onto his heels with a sigh and pushed himself carefully to his feet.

'No, not hurt, Meretin, just chilled to the bone from flying _between_, wet through. He's thawed out nicely now, though I expect you'd rather see for yourself. I'll go down to the caverns for klah to warm him from the inside, too,' Elijah said, leaving Sea'n to explain while he made his escape - to try and work out what had almost happened here.

His errand took rather longer than he thought, for so many riders and weyrfolk stopped him with questions, needing his assurance that Sea'n was neither sick nor injured. He heard also several times that, just as Sammath reached Frideth's ledge, a bronze dragon had blinked into view and hovered above the Bowl for a short while before vanishing into _between_ once more. __

Who was it, Sammath?

Zendreth and his rider, come in haste to see Sea'n safely back to his weyr. They did not stay once you had care of him.

S'ttan is a true friend to worry so for Sea'n!

Indeed.

It was only as he mounted the stairs, grateful to all those so concerned for Sea'n, but wishing they had not kept him so long, that he paused a moment to consider what Sea'n might have meant with his request not to stop. Whether he could possibly have felt what he thought he had, and if so, why it should be - and whether that alone had sparked Sea'n's eyes so green. Perhaps… perhaps when a body was chilled so severely the return of heat brought a natural surge of blood there too, just as Sea'n's lips seemed flushed and maybe a little swollen after their thin, cold blue? It now seemed more than likely that there had been nothing more to it than that - together with his own wishful thinking and Sea'n being still light-headed and not quite back to his usual self. By the time he stepped back into the weyr with a mug of klah apiece, Elijah had quite convinced himself of that.

Sea'n was dry and warmly dressed now, and the two men had moved to the padded benches, clearly discussing Crista and the truly strange way in which she was behaving. As Elijah entered, Sea'n was explaining to the healer his reasons for suspecting her to have been responsible for the attack on Elijah, too.

'She knew too much, Meretin. She knew what Elijah was wearing, knew how the color—how it became him. She said—' He stopped short, seeing Elijah.

Elijah understood at once. 'Crista _may_ have arranged an attack on me,' he said, 'but we _know _ she did this to you. You are my weyrmate, against whom she has committed malice, if no more. Healers may reveal nothing their patients say without consent, not that Meretin would. And in truth, we need – _I_ need - to talk about it. I cannot ignore Crista's actions much longer, and I may well have to confront her.' What he did not say was that, queen-rider or no, she had forfeited all claim to his loyalty the moment she offered harm to Sea'n.

'Drink this,' he commanded, offering the klah, for first things should come first. 'Candessa insisted on adding a splash of spirit - I think you should be warmed through enough now for it to round off the cure!'

'She has to have used a flamethrower on a narrow setting, to get such force and accuracy from a height,' Meretin was saying. Then, worriedly, 'Oh dear, I do hope that it had been properly cleaned of agenothree before it was filled with water! You don't feel any slight burning, do you?'

'No,' Sea'n said. 'And it's a tradition we have at Igen - you don't do it here? Once or twice a turn R'bant - the Weyrlingmaster - announces a grand cleanup. He tells his weyrlings it's just because cleaning the tank nozzles alone only works for so long, though really it's a reward for all their hard work. The tanks are emptied and serviced, and we take them down to the lake to be scrubbed and tested with water. It can be great fun – a far more enjoyable way of getting soaked to the skin. In fact, a lot of them wear not much more than skin!' A quiet grin said that it was not only weyrlings who indulged in such rambunctious play. 'Crista must have kept one back. I'd have realized what it was, of course, but it was so unexpected and Sammath ducked us into _between _as fast as if it _had_ been Thread.'

Elijah shuddered, now. He could imagine all too clearly the fine glitter of water cascading through the sunlight to drench Sea'n to his skin. He suppressed through every Fall the half-owned dread that such a lethal silver spray might one day engulf his mate in just that way. Crista must have known the momentary fear such a shower would bring. Had she intended it in jest, it would not have been funny, for riding _between_ when wet was not amusing. Elijah very much doubted that jest was Crista's object - humiliation at the least, if not a severe case of exposure.

'Sea'n, would Crista really—why is it that you believe she arranged for that man to attack me?' He could ask now as he could not have done before.

'I would never have believed such a thing of her, but I truly think she did,' Sea'n said, obviously relieved to be able to speak out at last. 'She did have us watched, Elijah. She knew what you were wearing, how b—how well you looked. And she left so soon - before it happened, though she had not long arrived, judging by the lack of dust on her skirts.'

'It's the _why_ that's baffling,' Meretin said. 'Was she so very fond of you, Sea'n?'

Sea'n shook his head. 'No,' he said quietly - then, after a pause, 'but it really was a great insult to her and to her queen, you know, to be left like that.'

'And therefore also a great compliment to Elijah and to _his_!' Meretin said smoothly. 'But queen-riders are not usually so possessive, not without great love to move them.'

He glanced sideways toward Elijah, who stared down into his mug and tried not to blush. Strong and lifelong ties between bronze and gold, rider and weyrwoman were rare but famed in song: the first Sean and his Sorka on Carenath and Faranth, Torene and her M'hall… Elijah could only dream that he and Sea'n might join their number – if the love of a weyr-_rider_ might count at all.

'Could it be because Allibeth should have flown and has not?' Sea'n asked. 'By my reckoning she should have, several weeks ago.' He didn't quite look at either of them as he said it, and cleared his throat in an embarrassed sort of way.

Elijah made no comment, still wishing for the impossible. And how could Crista not even have been fond of Sea'n - enough, at least, not to have played so cruel a trick? However Sea'n may feel toward his weyrmate, Elijah was a great deal more than _fond_ of him - and he would never do such a thing no matter that Sea'n could never love him.

'Ah!' Meretin said. 'Well, that does make a difference, of course. And, really, I don't know why I didn't think of it before. If she rode a green I should have known right away that she was proddy!'

'Queen-riders don't _get_ proddy,' Elijah insisted. 'They can't, it wouldn't be safe for their Weyr.'

'It seems that this one has - and it wasn't,' Meretin added sadly. 'Think, Elijah! Short temper. Irrational behavior. Emotional for no real reason. Can you think of a better explanation?'

'Crista cannot be blamed for the accident any more than Sea'n,' Elijah said, fairly. 'S'rone may not yet have won her queen in flight, but he _was_ in command, and as trained to leadership as any bronze-rider may be. But for the rest, I think you are probably right. If Allibeth is completely off cycle it must obviously affect Crista, though I can't remember to have read of it in queens - in their riders - before. And it means the only remedy is for Allibeth to fly…' He was still not entirely easy with the thought of Allibeth's next mating flight. He didn't really _believe_ that Sammath would whisk Sea'n back to Igen – he just couldn't be _sure_.

'Well, of course, that is the ultimate solution, but there are a number of herbal mixtures that might be of use in the meantime,' Meretin said. 'I expect the Weyr is feeling the strain too. I wonder…'

Sea'n smiled ruefully. 'Crista has a sharp tongue and a quick temper at the best of times!'

'Perhaps the Igen healer might be open to a little, shall we say, _outside consultation_?'

'It couldn't hurt to ask,' Elijah said, 'so long as you get someone _else_ to fly you there!'

Sea'n laughed with them but when Elijah looked from beneath lowered lashes, whatever it was had sparked his eyes so green was there no longer.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	14. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…No redwort for her…_

Eyes crinkled against the brilliant light, Sea'n watched an unfamiliar wing blink into view on his far right: sunlit dragon-skin and dark wher-hide etched in clear and almost perfect formation, sharp against the barren Northern wastes. Telgar riders - and now these of Benden too - gave thanks daily for the extensive range of rocky peaks, wrapped in snow turn in and turn out, that set a decisive margin to the lands they must guard unceasingly. Neither dragon nor rider life need be risked in defense there; of all, only the lower fringes - summer pasture and tree plantations - need be overflown in Fall.

For these four sevendays Telgar would play host to T'lekan's riders while A'sren and his wing flew with Benden. K'vret had decreed this full Weyr drill before the weyrlings must face Fall bringing firestone sacks for unfamiliar riders and dragons. It was scarcely needed here, when leader and dragons were clear in mind and in command. But unspoken over every rider, the memory hung fresh of Igen's tragedy; of untried dragons and their riders, of injuries and of death.

Spread wide beside and behind him, Sea'n's own riders awaited instruction from Sammath; no _almost_ about the alignment within their ranks, he knew it without turning to look. They would hold position proudly until Geneth relayed K'vret's order for full engagement to the wing-dragons. The Benden riders and their borrowed weyrlings would be put through their paces several times yet before the Weyrleader was satisfied; and so, they waited.

The exchange, once agreed, had been made more swiftly than Sea'n thought possible. He had followed Elijah and Meretin down to the evening meal, still questioning the unprecedented occurrence of proddiness in a queen-rider – and more, a Weyrwoman; and attempting between them to concoct a plausible excuse for the healer to visit his colleague at Igen. Despite the attack, Sea'n would make no formal complaint against Crista; for him it was enough that they had talked about it openly at last. And Elijah had smiled at him then, a smile of full agreement, but one which carried also his promise of swift retribution should she be proved guilty of anything more against them.

They found the caverns abuzz already with news of the coming exchange, as riders argued fiercely among themselves for the chance to make the switch with Benden. Sea'n's wing – reassured that he was well once more – claimed the right more passionately than any, maintaining that _their_ flying had prompted the scheme in the first place. But when the plates were cleared at last a hush fell and riders craned their necks to see as, with great ceremony, Lenara placed an ancient and finely carved box on the table before K'vret.

'What is it?' Sea'n had asked in an undertone, not wanting to admit that he couldn't see why the Weyrleader didn't just announce his decision and be done with it - as he would have done at Igen, as he was sure R'nal must be doing right now at Benden.

'What _is_ it?' Elijah opened his eyes even wider in pretended shock and told him, with a scandalized grin, 'This is one of our most cherished traditions!'

Sea'n grinned unrepentantly back at him and rolled a hand in the air for Elijah to get on with his telling, as K'vret made a ritual count of the small things Sea'n could not quite make out from where they sat.

'Telgar's Tallies are our way - the_ fair_ way - of making a decision when there is no clear answer. There are seventeen, for the first dragons and their riders' - Sea'n knew without telling that the unlucky Marco and Duluth were the missing pair - 'and they are believed to have been carved by Ram Telgar himself - because there are no straws to draw, up here in the mountains! One for each of you,' Elijah said, as K'vret slid them carefully into the bag Lenara presented to him, 'and fortune flies with the last, which must always be—'

'Faranth and Sorka?' Sea'n guessed, as K'vret held high the last one of all, and every rider dipped his or her head to honor the first few of their kind.

The wing-leaders took their turns from left to right of the cavern. So many of Sea'n's riders sat here at table with them that the air above was almost crackling with suspense by the time he stood to take his turn. Even Elijah looked nervous, though this could affect him not at all. Sea'n put his hand into the worn red bag and the remaining tokens slipped long and smooth beneath his fingers. One side plainly bore a rider and dragon pair cleaving an upward flight, but the other kept its inscription too tightly bordered to be read by touch alone. No help there to ensure that he and his wing had not to leave Telgar – that he had not to leave Elijah so soon after…

He made his choice quickly – handing the slim wooden piece solemnly to K'vret without peeking, as he had seen the others do before him. K'vret showed it to Lenara, who smiled broadly and announced, 'Carenath and Sean!'

The tension in the air broke into laughter then, mixed with the groans of disappointment from his riders. Sea'n laughed too, to hide his relief, and then clapped loudly with the rest as A'sren, who followed him, drew out Sorka and her queen. He wished he could believe that Elijah would have looked as unhappy as Riana, had K'vret announced his weyrmate's departure on the morrow; that Elijah might have dragged _him_ away to their weyr as precipitously, for what could only be a loving farewell. But then he looked across the table at Elijah, snickering cheerfully now at the jests and jeers that passed between the lucky and the unsuccessful; Sea'n needed no drawing of lots for his true answer to such a wish.

Only two days ago - so short a time since…

It was perhaps a good thing that at this height the air was briskly cold - Sammath's amusement lurked quietly in his head - perhaps a good thing, as Sea'n contemplated the fact that, such a short time ago, he had been on the very brink of begging Elijah to strip him naked… to touch him and more - much more. He would have done it, too, had Meretin not arrived so fortuitously.

_So inconveniently…  
_  
Under Elijah's care, the numbing, inexorable cold from flying _between_ wet through, had melted into feeling once again – and in its wake, sensation came suddenly raw and new: the warmth of the water, its playful swirl around him and the throaty gurgle as it was constantly replaced; the coil and shimmer of steam above it, dancing in the light from the glow baskets; and more than all, Elijah and Elijah's hands upon him again, at last. Sea'n was acutely conscious of fingers - always so deft on string or fret but hampered here by wet fabric and deceitful water - moving diligently from button to button, oblivious to the effect of each slightest brush against Sea'n's too receptive skin.

Would he really have begged so?

_Touch me, _would he have said… and could almost feel the press and drag of heavy cloth, pushed against him by a slow and tentative finger, though he dared not raise his eyes again lest he startle Elijah in his exploration.

_Touch me, please, _would he have said… the hands moving hesitantly to buttons larger and easier than those on shirt and sleeve, and the task soon done.

_Please… _trousers and linens floated all away on the roil of water to leave Sea'n trembling with the silent scream of anticipation glittering outward from the base of his spine. Taut need displayed, eager beneath Elijah's gaze; eyes fully open at last, and honest now with his desire to make love to his mate.

_Please, Elijah… _

Elijah, who seemed so rarely to touch Sea'n of his own intent, and then only where Sea'n was safely clothed; scrupulously so - as though to meet bare skin, of arm or wrist or even finger, may be to invite such attention as he could never want. But clear and aching in Sea'n's memory was a helpless, heedless, clutching Elijah, who had touched without restraint and clung in desperate ecstasy; he knew – could feel still - exactly where and when and how Elijah's hands had grasped at him then - at his arms, at his back… skin to naked skin…

_Please…_

But he knew too well that he must not, that Meretin had done him great service by that interruption, little though he had appreciated it at the time. He must not, for Elijah could only reject him, perhaps even end their weyrmating as was his right if he found Sea'n's conduct unacceptable. And to be denied what he was granted already would be unbearable; he could not again allow need to overrule his good sense.

_SEA'N! K'vret calls!   
_  
Sammath brought him imperiously back to their practice as K'vret's clenched fist was raised and the challenge roared up, its echoes resounding on and on through tiers and rows and ranks of Telgar dragons ranged across the sky. Their mock combat was no less serious for the lack of Thread - a resistance unfeigned as each dragon pair ducked and dove as if danger truly slithered amongst them. The difference lay only in the joy of flying that Thread's absence allowed - a joy there never could be during Fall.

Bronze Sammath outdid himself for agility, whipping them to and fro in fierce pursuit of their imagined enemy, and the weyrlings attached to their wing were experienced enough for this to become as much a game of daring as they blinked in and out to random dragon call. _We fly well today! _ he said, between an admonition for blue Mispeth to pass to his young rider for letting fall an empty sac, and a word of praise to Dalanth's for a deft save. _And Benden flies well with us, _ he added. _The leader need not worry that they may fail him! _

They fly well, Sea'n agreed. _And you fly _very_ well today. I can nearly see the Thread at which you would flame! _ Sammath's satisfaction at the praise lapped pure contentment through his mind.

Finally, K'vret signaled the end of the drill and the wings vanished into between in their proper order, Sea'n's following in turn and Sammath coasting their spiral home as always, from far higher than need really be. They flew almost lazily, sharing full approval at their wing's – at the Weyr's - performance as they watched each tier of dragons swoop below to ledge or Bowl. Some had flown directly to the lake, the first to land already shedding gear in order to bathe their dragons and probably – though maybe unintentionally - themselves.

When Sammath dipped toward the Bowl at last Sea'n tried, as always, to make out Elijah's figure from amongst those who lingered there. They were a mere handful today, with little need for helper or healer when the only hurts should be aches and strains from over-enthusiastic flying. Much though Sea'n appreciated the respite, he felt deprived. He knew he looked forward to Elijah's _Welcome home! _smile after Fall; he simply had not realized how bereft he would feel when denied it. He smiled wryly. He had now a more powerful reason for the careful flying of Thread, over and above the keeping whole of Sammath's skin and his own: that Elijah was waiting for him with that smile - at least until his queen was free to fly once more. And that one day he must and would make love to his Elijah again, though it may be only at Frideth's behest.

Sammath left him there, deciding to return to the lake to drink, and Sea'n briskly mounted the steps to their weyr. He stripped off riding gear as he went, stuffing gloves and goggles into his helmet, unfastening wher-hide and all the while wondering where Elijah might be, hoping to find that smile awaiting him.

He pushed through the curtains - and stopped. Here indeed was Elijah, but here was no welcoming smile. Instead, his back was turned to Sea'n - lithe and creamy pale against the shadows that gathered already in their weyr, the stain of his injury lingering still across one shoulder. Sea'n had so regretted Elijah's decision to tend his own hurts just as soon as he could spread the numbweed for himself. His fingers may not be able to enjoy the texture of smooth skin, but Sea'n could still observe, still appreciate a perfection that had not quite reached its peak. Wiry rather than muscular as yet, he thought again, looking forward to seeing Elijah fill out as his body ripened through their turns together.

His quiet hope for the future, the loss of Elijah's greeting, and his remembrance of a love-making for which he'd nearly begged, all gave to shock and hurt by far a keener edge when he realized his Elijah was standing there half-clothed - but not alone.

That over Elijah's beautiful back, over the fading blemish, a pair of hands - delicate, female, _ possessive_ hands - were drifting a slow, unhampered way.

Elijah, with a girl in his arms.

No, not even a girl - a woman, for Sea'n knew her and she was near his own age (_but_ she _is far too old for him?_) They stood eye to eye in the middle of the weyr - cheek to cheek, almost – far too close for Sea'n's comfort. He froze, one half of the heavy curtain still slipping from his shoulder. Her voice was quietly confidential – too low to make out words – her attention all on Elijah as her fingers brushed over skin as Sea'n's own must never do except at need.  
_  
No redwort for her…   
_  
He had no real wish, much less the right, to play the jealous spouse – not when the warning of Crista's harm was still so plain to see. But he could not control the swift and shameful thoughts that crowded into his head. Elijah's deft hands, his skill in healing, had not been needed during the practice. Elijah had been free to do what ever he wished - whatever he really wanted to. Elijah had known Sea'n would be absent from their weyr for that time…

And indeed, this may well not be as it may seem, only his imagination - his jealousy - flying away with his good sense. But he could not be _quite_ sure.

Hennest - her name was Hennest, Sea'n knew when he could think past his worst imaginings - was a seamstress drafted from her Hall for a spell at Telgar. Her commission here must be to make up the cloth Elijah had chosen at Fort's Gather before the attack on him. Sea'n had forgotten that, and the handful of marks, too, that scattered like all else at Sammath's shout within his head, at Elijah's muted cry. But Meretin handed them to him at breakfast the next morning, and the neatly wrapped package to Elijah - just before he insisted on taking him aside to see what damage had been done. It was not that he mistrusted Sea'n's tending, he'd said firmly, but safe was better by far than sorry when a queen-rider's well-being was in question; and he _was_ the Weyrhealer.

Sea'n barely noticed the existence of fabric at all now, his eyes and mind too taken up with the sight of someone – _any_one - touching Elijah without restraint, as he must not; of Elijah open to that touch as he would never be for Sea'n. And if Hennest were simply helping him out of the partly made-up tunic – did she need to _paw_ so blatantly? Yes, the bruising was still colorful, even if blue and vinous purple were gradually yielding to an ugly yellow-green that could serve only to point the perfection of unflawed skin. And yes, it did still hurt if he moved too far or too fast, for the tight set of his shoulders gave Elijah away no matter that he claimed otherwise. She needed no touch to tell her any of that through a gentle stroking that was not hers to give. And Sea'n would have much preferred to find out for himself just how ticklish Elijah was when fingers brushed along his waistband; to remember how very contagious his giggle might be if you didn't drop what you were carrying with a dismal clunk and stalk out quickly before you could interrupt indeed.

Before your worst imaginings could be confirmed…

He started down the stairs toward the caverns, a hand to his head, brushing through his hair, as you did without thinking after your helmet had squashed it flat, but tugging hard now, as if the pain may somehow ease the sense of complete betrayal that he knew he had no right to feel. He did not own Elijah and their weyrmating was not Elijah's true choice. He could not give to Elijah what he needed and perhaps Hennest _would…_ Perhaps this was the day Sea'n had feared, when Elijah would set Frideth's need aside at last to answer to his own. And he was young, his needs far better met in the arms of someone he lo—found attractive, than stifled, like Sea'n's, in the stark solitude of the bathing room. Sea'n just wished that he had known, had been prepared—

He'd thought he had… but he was not.

But would Elijah not have said - would _he_ not have noticed - if he tired of their weyrmating? He surely would have said? But perhaps this was an instant attraction - as swift and unexpected as the moment in which Sea'n had found them…

_Frideth says that Elijah feels ticklish but nothing more_, Sammath said, suddenly.

Sea'n halted in mid-step and released a long, slow breath. He closed his eyes. _Why does Frideth say that?_

You wished to know what he was feeling so I asked her, Sammath replied. __

We cannot do that, Sammath, he said, reluctantly. _It is unfair to Elijah that he should be… spied upon in such a way. _

Frideth is not spying, she is telling.

But we_ should not be told such things, _ Sea'n said, wondering if his dragon could appreciate the fine point of human etiquette.

Sammath blew a disbelieving snort across Sea'n's mind. After a pause he added, _Frideth says the woman was helpful but she has taken the cloth and is gone, now _\- and then, quickly before Sea'n could object to this further forbidden knowledge, _She says that Elijah wishes you to know. _

Sea'n's shoulders sagged only a very little as he allowed tense muscles to relax once more. _Then please give my thanks to Frideth. _ He was about to repeat that they must not spy upon Elijah, but shrugged, ruefully, as Sammath treated him to another snort. Nothing he might say could have any effect upon either dragon if they believed – as they so obviously did - that they knew better.

Instead he sat down, right there on the shadowy stairway, to consider what it might have meant - what it was that Elijah wanted him to know.

That he was embarrassed to be discovered here - half-dressed and embracing a woman?

That he knew it was unseemly - as well as completely unheard of - for a queen-rider to be found so, and that had he known Sea'n would return so soon, he would have hung a riding strap?

Or that there had been no more of such touching that was necessary for the task at hand, and that he really would not wish Sea'n to think that there was?

That for Elijah, too, any such liaison would betray both weyrmating and mate?

Sea'n really did not know which of them he should believe, and knew he could not bring himself to ask. He could only hope that it might be the last. But whatever the truth of the matter, he feared that he would never truly appreciate the new tunic; however much it may become Elijah, its making would stand always between Sea'n and the finished thing.

~~~~\~~/~~~~


	15. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _…must have carried for years the pain Elijah was only learning…_

Waiting with politely concealed impatience for Hennest to free him from a tangle of fabric, Elijah heard the unmistakable thud of hardened wherhide hitting the floor. He looked around quickly. Sea'n's helmet lay, rocking itself almost silently to a standstill, in front of the chest that stood by the stairway entrance to the weyr. Of Sea'n himself there was no sign - only a slight stir of the door curtain to prove that he had left without a word.

For a moment Elijah wondered what the hurry might be, for Sea'n to have set down his riding gear so quickly that it would roll off the chest and to leave so abruptly. Then his breath caught as he realized he was standing here shirtless, as he carefully never was when Sea'n was there to see. That Hennest was standing so very close - her hands slipping up and down his back as she straightened or fiddled or whatever it was she was doing - that she was practically in his arms.

Had Sea'n believed him to be _holding_ her so close – and thought it _too_ close? At a glance it could well have seemed so. And certainly she was touching him as she maneuvered the part-made tunic slowly away and off. Gently, in consideration of his still stiff shoulder, and even a little teasingly perhaps; he'd squirmed from the tickling brush of fingers at his waist and she did it again just to make him giggle, but there had been - _could _be - no more to it than that. Sea'n had left in haste, though, clearly allowing his weyrmate a privacy Elijah did not need, would never want with anyone but Sea'n.

Hennest could hold very little attraction for him. She was pretty enough and rather amusing, with a store of gossip from the Weavercraft Hall that she told with a straight face and a twinkle in her eye - but she was so…so _motherly_. And anyway, chestnut curls and a neat figure meant less than nothing when your weyrmate had a smile that could turn you inside out and eyes as changeable as sunlight through the flutter of spring leaves. When his body fit so well with yours that you might have been made for each other, if only he could come to see it.

Elijah knew already the hurt that even a dragon-led mating would bring him, were Sea'n to take any other rider, of green _or_ gold. For _him_ to be discovered in this way – had it been true, had Hennest been lover here and not simply a necessity for his clothing - would be insult far greater than Sea'n mating another at Sammath's behest, for Frideth would compel no such coupling.

Had Elijah wanted to seek love elsewhere, before he did so he would have released Sea'n from the mating he had not truly wanted. And Elijah was not about to do that, _ever_ \- unless Sea'n asked it of him…

He would not allow this to lie between them now, for Sea'n _must_ know that this had been nothing of the kind – that for Elijah their weyrmating was no light thing to be so dishonored. He would, of course, avoid any implication that Sea'n ought to be jealous; avoid the admission that he would _like_ Sea'n to be jealous – or at least to love Elijah enough that he could be so. He simply would make it clear that his encounter with Hennest had been solely in the service of tailoring.

He was not so far behind Sea'n on the stairs; he had taken off his riding jacket and set it aside, only just reaching their usual table when Elijah caught up with him. The cavern was busy already with hungry riders, none of whom - after a 'Fall' without Thread - had more to worry about than what might be for lunch.

They took places opposite each other and Elijah decided to heft the herdbeast by its horns and get it over with at once. 'The tunic will be finished soon!' he said, more brightly than he felt.

'Yes? That's good.' Sea'n nodded and smiled, but Elijah was by now an expert on Sea'n's smiles, and this one was empty. 'I'll look forward to seeing it,' he added.

'There was some problem with the_ facing_, I think Hennest called it.' Elijah wrinkled his nose in the way he knew would usually get him a true smile – and it almost did.

'Don't worry, she'll fix it,' Darial put in as she eeled into the last empty place, beside him. 'She's _very_ clever with her needle as well as her patterns. I was a bit worried about my new gather gown, with her being quite new and untried and all, but it's _really_ elegant and it fits me like a second skin!'

'I suppose so. Hennest, I mean - I haven't seen your dress, yet! I don't know much about these things, but as long as I don't have to stand for hours again while she fiddles with it, and it's comfortable to wear when it's finished, then that's all I need from her.' Elijah put a very slight emphasis on the last word as he passed the basket of breads along the table, carefully not looking at Sea'n. Several other riders jumped in with details of new finery they intended or currently enjoyed, and conversation became more general. But a little later, when he shared one of Hennest's less discreet tales, to salty laughter (no names, of course, but everyone recognized the Masterweaver and his feisty spouse), Elijah saw that Sea'n's smile for him was full and warm - back the way he needed it to be, no matter the havoc it may cause to his anatomy.

A mistake he should not have made – another reason to make Sea'n sorry he had ever weyrmated a boy. He began to wonder if Sea'n might not flee back to Igen just to escape a crass and blundering weyrmate, and crossed his fingers hurriedly against the thought.

For Elijah also knew now - too late - that he had been wrong about the plea Sea'n had made of him in the bath. _Don't stop!_ low and husky, had haunted his dreams and impelled additional and very necessary visits to the bathing room ever since. He had been very wrong about the reason Sea'n had been hard beneath his fingers.

It was accepted – encouraged - within the Weyrs that after a difficult Fall, after a near miss, even riders who preferred not to weyrmate would seek out skin and darkness in which to affirm their lives and bury their fear. Elijah realized now that the shock of _might-have-been_ that day had pushed Sea'n into admitting his need. It had been the invitation Elijah wanted so much, snatched from him by Meretin's arrival. Snatched from both of them, for Sea'n had truly needed him then – needed _some_one, at least. But later, when he might have asked again, it was already too late. The shock had eased and the scare was past. Sea'n had obviously decided that he wasn't quite _that_ desperate, yet; that without Sammath to drive him on, he really could not bring himself to take a boy. It was why he had been - not withdrawn, but more carefully polite – more _formal_ – toward Elijah since then.

He sighed inwardly and then realized that the meal was over and he could have told no-one what he had eaten. Sea'n was rising from the bench already - to collect his merry band, he said.

'We'll see you two by the lake in a little while,' he added. 'No rush!'

It was lucky that he threw the last words – and the blinding grin – over his shoulder as he disappeared toward the weyrling tables; had Elijah caught it full force, it would not only have made _rush_ temporarily impossible, but even a dawdle rather difficult.

~~~

_Will the water not be too cold for the eggs, now? _ Elijah asked with a worried frown. _The wind is sharp today and no other dragon is bathing._

I need room, Frideth said, pragmatically. _And water is warmer than _between!

You are no longer flying between, _ for the sake of the eggs. _

She was, in fact, hardly flying at all. They were walking together out to the lake in no danger of _rush_ whatever. Elijah would have found her ungainly waddle more amusing were it not for his concern with her Clutching so close. She had become so heavy that to fly at all was now an effort. This morning, before the mock Fall, she had glided down to the Feeding Ground and Sammath had brought to her more herdbeast than she could eat. After due consideration for digestion, Frideth was determined upon her bath.

_Cold water is _much_ warmer than _between, she insisted. _ I have a fierce itch that needs scrubbing and my belly needs oiling_ again.

_Already? _Elijah had carefully applied oil every morning and evening for several sevendays now. Every time he smoothed it in, Frideth's skin felt to have stretched just a little more tightly over the lumps and bumps that lurked beneath. He had tried his hardest to count them but the eggs seemed to slip away from under his hands; all he could tell was that there seemed to be a great number of them. He had begun to wonder if she would ever regain her own sleek shape.

_Yes, for there are many eggs, _she said complacently. _Sammath is a potent dragon and they will be worthy of our flight. And then I shall be myself and fly once more. _

Elijah suppressed a giggle.

_You are laughing at us again. Why?_

Not at you, dearest – never at _you. You are so contented with your mate and with the clutch to come, and that makes me happy for you._

You are not happy for yourself, with the leader?

Of course I— he began, and realized it was not entirely true. Frideth apart, he was the happiest he had ever been at Telgar - but still…

_Sammath says that the leader wants you to be happy with him._

I would be very unhappy without_ him, Frideth. _

Frideth hummed pleasure as she shuffled through the shallows to deeper water, reveling in her sudden lightness as she was buoyed up by the water and movement became easier once more - if never as graceful as flying.

_They are nearly here,_ Elijah warned, realizing he was the ungainly one now as he hopped around on one foot, struggling with his boots. He sat down hurriedly to finish the task, knowing how silly he must look.

_I am ready!_ Frideth paddled back toward shore and stretched out, waiting.

'Queen's cleaning group, reporting for duty!'

Sea'n had arrived, bringing a vocal band of weyrlings armed to the teeth with buckets of sweetsand, brooms and scrubbing brushes, the last two hauling a tub of oil between them. They stripped hurriedly to the minimum, despite the chill breeze, and after some jostling lined up at the water's edge, bowing to the queen and chanting _Good afternoon, Frideth!_ in a polite chorus.

'Now, we have a serious contest to get underway here, if Frideth will allow.' Sea'n also bowed to her and she blinked at him benignly. He took off shirt and boots – with rather less effort, Elijah noted - and rolled up trouser legs; Elijah's quiet shiver then was not wholly the result of cold water on bare toes.

'Teams of two, points awarded for speed, lather and care taken,' Sea'n reminded his workers as pairs were formed and implements quickly shared among them. 'Points deducted for streaks, skimping on oil and any remaining itch on your patch that Frideth reports to Elijah. Are we clear?'

'YES!' A deafening chorus.

'To your stations, then! Ready? Three, two, one… Wait for it… GO!'

In seconds, Frideth bore a swarm of fiercely determined weyrlings, sanding and brushing and sanding some more. Bathing her had become a fun thing to do - or at least to watch. Since the damage to his shoulder – which did still twinge a sharp warning if moved too far or too fast - Elijah was not permitted to exert himself with actual scrubbing. In fact, his role had dwindled to little more than retrieving the odd bucket that was inadvertently flung with its rinse water, and asking Frideth to move this way or that to accommodate her eager attendants. He spent most of the time laughing at their antics, at Sea'n's incredible energy, at the appreciative groans and sighs of relief in his head as particularly itchy spots were eased. Nominally, he was assigned the position of second judge, but it was a mere sinecure, for Sea'n seemed to be everywhere at once, calling for more sweetsand here, and rinsing there, _Harder scrubbing up at the back!_ and _Care over those eggs!_

When Frideth's skin glowed gold beneath a comprehensive sheen of oil, Sea'n called a halt. The victorious team was cheered, and promised as prize whatever sweeting may be Sea'n's at the evening meal before he chivvied off the hot and panting band to baths of their own. Though they were at least as wet as Frideth herself had been, they seemed to notice the cold as little, Elijah thought, shivering in earnest now.

As soon as Frideth had managed to get off the ground to return to the weyr, Elijah led the way to where he had piled towels and boots and warm woolens, safely out of splash-reach. Further back, there were benches sheltered by the rock face that captured and held the heat of the sun; a welcoming place, and not only for tired riders once their dragons were clean. Elijah drowsed a little where he sat, head tipped back and the light dazzling orange-red behind closed lids. He didn't even notice that Sea'n had left him until he felt a nudge and was handed a mug of klah. They rested quietly shoulder to shoulder, chilled hands cupped around the warmth, clenching their toes against the tingle as feeling returned to ice-cold feet.

_Zendreth comes – his rider brings news of Allibeth._ Sammath did not sound particularly interested in whatever the news might be, Elijah thought, rousing himself.

'S'ttan is coming!' Sea'n said. 'Allibeth must have flown!' He stood and walked out to where Zendreth would land while Elijah returned their empty mugs to the kitchen and collected a full one to warm the rider after his flight. There had not been time as yet to arrange their innocently devious stratagem for Meretin's visit to the Igen healer, but with luck this should mean it was needed no longer.

Fresh mug in hand and still concealed by deep shade from the rock face above, Elijah could clearly see the two friends beyond him in the sunshine - S'ttan coming toward him, toward Sea'n, his smile radiant. And as Sea'n reached forward to hug him in greeting, for a bare few seconds S'ttan closed his eyes.

No more than that.

But his face against Sea'n's shoulder told Elijah more than S'ttan would ever have wanted him to know. That S'ttan wished to be far more to Sea'n than Sea'n could ever welcome – as much, in fact, as Elijah would wish for himself.

Then the moment was gone as though it had never been, and S'ttan slapped Sea'n heartily on the back as soon as the hug broke apart. They talked animatedly, obviously of Allibeth's flight, and as Elijah brought out the klah he learned that it was indeed Menogeth who won the queen, as Sea'n had predicted, and D'trel was Weyrleader once more by right and no longer by default. The flight had been high and fast enough – 'Though nothing compared with Frideth's, of course,' S'ttan said, nodding to Elijah to acknowledge his queen's famous feat - for the prospect of a fine clutch to cheer the Weyr considerably. Bets were being laid already as to the possibility of a queen egg at last, after so many years without. And the injured riders and dragons - particularly Nelath – were improving daily, he said.

They settled on the benches once more, and Elijah put his head back to the wall again, listening with only part of his mind to news of less serious casualties and their healing, and of riders and events at Igen of which he knew nothing. The rest was busy with silent thanks that Allibeth had flown at last and that Sammath had not even known of it, much less needed to rise for her. The broad smile of relief on his face – and Sammath's sly chuckle in his mind - celebrated more than Nelath's recovery.

_Frideth is mine, now and always,_ Sammath told him, the surety in his voice both comfort and promise. Elijah smiled again and fervently hoped that he was right.

And now there was this to take in, too, that S'ttan loved Sea'n just as he did, though Sea'n could be no more than friend to him, as he was to Elijah. This was why S'ttan seemed so serious, why he had one real smile for Sea'n - the one that lit his face from within – and a conventional _my friend's friend is also my friend_ smile for everyone else.

Elijah found that he could not be jealous of S'ttan as he was of every other rider that ever cast eyes at his weyrmate, for S'ttan never did so - and he must have carried for turns the pain Elijah was only learning. More than that, Elijah was now the one who could be with Sea'n every day - live with him even, though S'ttan must also know far better than he that this weyrmating, however long, could be in name only. And he had shown no jealousy, no resentment for the loss of his friend - his love - to Elijah and his dragon queen. Elijah doubted he could have been so generous had their positions been reversed; S'ttan was indeed the good man he'd thought him.

He was laughing now. 'This is the talk of the Weyr,' he said, 'so I think may tell Elijah, too!'

Elijah felt the gentle nudge of Sea'n's elbow - both of them seemed to believe he was actually dozing in the sun. Elijah grinned and said that he was simply resting his eyelids - quoting his mother as she drowsed by the fire of an evening, after a long day's work. 'I was _listening_!' But he sat up, the better to hear what S'ttan might say.

'Last evening, after the meal, we heard voices raised in Crista's weyr, and then some… unusual noises. Sunira - next in seniority,' he explained for Elijah's benefit, 'Sunira went up to enquire, and found the riding strap hung out plainly. Being Sunira, though—there_ are _those who believe there was a mix-up at the hatching and that, with her nose for gossip, she was really meant for green, not gold!' was another aside for Elijah. '_Being_ Sunira, she called out to know if everything was all right in there, and Crista said - well, more _gasped_ really, Sunira reported rather gleefully - that she was fine and would Sunira please go away. And far be it from her to speculate, Sunira said - as if we didn't know her better than that – she rather thought that, close to, the noises had a great deal in common with someone being _spanked…_

'And this morning, Crista was all smiles for everyone at breakfast. She even had one for _me_ – and you can imagine how popular I have been with her since you left, Sea'n, considering that I was not her favorite person to begin with! D'trel said nothing at all, of course, but he did look rather… smug.'

When they stopped laughing, S'ttan shook his head and sighed, mock serious now. 'All that time as Weyrleader, Sea'n, and your tactics were completely wrong!'

Sea'n grinned and turned to Elijah, raising his eyebrows, and Elijah said 'Don't you look at me like that, _ex_-Weyrleader Sea'n – you had your chance and missed it! We definitely don't do things that way _here_!'

S'ttan laughed at the tease as Elijah knew he never could have done, a warm and friendly laugh. His voice too was beautiful, with a lilting music to it, not an accent Elijah had heard before and it was easy, then, to ask about S'ttan's home on the lower plains of Kervela; to tell of his own - a small valley tucked away in the rolling Downland that he still missed for its gentle swell of green, its scattered copses and the broad, sandy-bottomed streams where he and Rontel had tickled for fish - so different from the harsh and mostly barren country that surrounded the Weyr; and to learn a little more of Sea'n's small family hold, along the coast and inland a little from Igen. Too soon, it seemed, the sun had sunk down beyond the rim of the Bowl, glow baskets were all opened and meal preparations well underway in the caverns. S'ttan must obviously stay to eat, a good meal being the most effective defense against the chill of _between_ on a homeward flight.

Elijah took the empty mug and left the two together. He could accept that there may be still more things to be said between them; maybe even things that Sea'n would wish to share with S'ttan and not with him. The clatter of dishes and utensils was louder now, telling of a meal almost ready to serve, and the cavern began to fill with hungry weyrfolk. Candessa extracted as full an account of Allibeth's flight as Elijah possessed, called across to her as he counted plates and doled out cutlery to the drudges laying tables as fast as they were set up. Sea'n and S'ttan were working together as a team now, S'ttan looking as content as he had yet seen when they sat at last, still talking easily the way true friends should, Elijah thought. Candessa distracted him again then, somehow finding time to question him in detail on what other news S'ttan had brought, even in the midst of supervising the delivery of laden serving dishes.

Released at last, Elijah was about to join them when there was a sudden cry of pain, nearby at the roasting hearth. One of the under-cooks had tripped carrying a pan, and scalding food had splashed on the arm of a passing drudge. Elijah had Barlek out by the pump with icy water cascading down him before the mess could spread very far at all.

He looked up and Meretin was there.

'You and your mate will be replacing me as healer before I know where I am!' Meretin said, raising his brows.

'I am sorry, but Barlek needed—' Elijah stopped, for Meretin knew what Barlek had needed as well as or far better than he, and was smiling at him besides.

Together they cleaned and dried their patient, who was complaining more of the cold than the burn until Durker, whose trip had caused the accident, came rushing up with many apologies, and a blanket sent by Candessa.

By the time that Barlek had been packed off to rest on his bed - with a coating of numbweed, a tray of less dangerous food and Marinis his spouse for comfort - the meal was already well underway. Though a space would be made for him at the table where Sea'n was sitting, Elijah knew that he would feel awkward if he went to claim it now. He would not want S'ttan to think him an overly possessive weyrmate.

Settling opposite Meretin at one of the side tables kept for latecomers, he wondered what Sea'n would have told S'ttan about their mating. Whether he had complained of losing his way of life, his Weyr – and his friend - to Sammath's obsession with a queen whose rider was a boy he'd rather not have had to mate at all. Would Sea'n have told S'ttan that? Best friends did share things so perhaps he would tell his predicament to S'ttan. He knew exactly how S'ttan must have felt when he heard of the weyrmating, how difficult it would have been for him not to beg Sea'n to stay at Igen. He realized then that he had no idea if Sea'n knew of S'ttan's love for him. From all that he had seen, from S'ttan's quickly hidden reaction to Sea'n's touch – for those few seconds there had been thankfulness as well as love and longing in his face – Elijah thought that he did not.

It was no accident, of course, that he had chosen to sit on the side from which he could watch them. Their table was half full of bronze-riders with a sprinkling of other colors from Sea'n's wing, and Sea'n had obviously introduced S'ttan widely. The talk now seemed all of flight – hands waggling this way and that in illustration, though at first Elijah was not sure whether queens or Thread were the object of the flight. Then he remembered Allibeth and the reason for S'ttan's visit. Too animated for Thread anyway, he decided. It had to be tactics for flying a queen.

To his relief, Sea'n was not saying much, only listening, and Elijah hoped that was because he would not want to share their flight with others despite its fame. That, like Elijah, he wouldn't want to hear it discussed and analyzed as though it meant no more than the catching of a green.

He noticed that Pr'len, who in his opinion still spent far too much time trying for Sea'n's attention, was also watching the friends. Pr'len was several turns older than Elijah, nearer in age to Sea'n, and he flew Litanith in Sea'n's wing; the pair was quick and clever in Threadfall, as he had seen for himself through Sammath's eyes. As the conversation went on, he seemed to be offering coy advice from the other side of the mating, and to be enjoying it far too much, Elijah thought. And obviously, the more the riders around him laughed, the more outrageous his next remark, for the table was soon in an uproar of laughter. Sea'n did not laugh aloud, but Elijah watched the crinkle of his smile and his insides took their usual up-and-over flip.

Then Pr'len made a show of fluttering lashes directly at Sea'n, and Elijah's eyes narrowed. He still could not help that sharp jab of jealousy, though Sea'n deflected the tease neatly, as always. He looked at S'ttan, smiling calmly, and knew who was the better man - or boy in his case and perhaps he would grow out of it. He felt a little better as Pr'len fluttered at S'ttan too, and he wondered if Zendreth, like Sammath, flew only for queens or if he mated greens too. Whether S'ttan mated males or whether for him too there could be only Sea'n.

But if Pr'len were to transfer his attentions to S'ttan, even if only for today, that seemed a very good idea to Elijah. He watched S'ttan now, expertly fielding the flirt and laughing back at him. _No, he doesn't want you, Pr'len, but he knows too well how to hide what he feels. _You _will never know who he does want._ Elijah's eyes returned to Sea'n, and something in the way he was watching the exchange made Elijah think that perhaps Sea'n did know. That he knew and was giving to S'ttan the most he could - keeping their friendship and letting go of anything more.

He sighed deeply and became aware of Meretin, watching and chuckling quietly at him.

'Yes, I really am as bad as any hold-bred girl jealous of friends from her spouse's past!' he said, to save Meretin the trouble.

'No,' Meretin said, more soberly now. 'You are just in love. Why don't you tell him?'

'Because he doesn't want—doesn't _need_ to know. I have a friend now, Meretin. I would not for the whole of Pern lose him by asking for more than that when it is more than he can give.'

Large platters of pastries - coiled generously around a scatter of dried fruits and with a thin, sweet glaze - began to be passed along the tables. Immediately two noisily triumphant weyrlings leapt up and hurried to claim their prize of Sea'n. Their fellow weyrlings applauded and whistled, and it was obvious that being _seen_ to have won was worth at least as much as the sweeting itself. Sea'n solemnly handed his knife to K'ris, who divided the pastry with infinite care, since V'diren would have the choice.

'Excuse me,' Elijah said to Meretin, snagging one for himself and carrying it to Sea'n's table. 'You should have this,' he told Sea'n, as the two lads took themselves back to their table, already munching happily. 'Frideth is _my_ queen and _I_ ought to pay her way!'

Sea'n smiled at him and Elijah looked quickly down at the pastry in his fingers.

'There are plenty to go 'round,' Sea'n said, and then added in a failing voice, 'and Candessa would surely not see me go hungry…'

Elijah plunked it onto the plate before him. 'Eat!' he said, but Sea'n took up his knife once more, halving it deftly.

'Choose!' he said, in exactly the same tone.

Elijah laughed. 'Very well,' he said. 'But next time, I _shall_ pay!'

He picked up his chosen half, and there was a general squirming along the bench to make a place for him to sit and eat as mugs of klah were passed down the table. When he looked up, he caught S'ttan's swift glance from Sea'n to him and back, then quickly down to concentrate on what lay on his plate.

Elijah would never share with anyone the knowledge that his words to Meretin were true for Sea'n twice over. One friend who would be more than that was one too many; Sea'n really did not need to know he had another.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~


	16. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _… I want you so much, Elijah …_

'So, what _is_ wrong, Elijah? You say you aren't sick – but you don't usually invite me to your weyr simply to talk, especially as we _talked_ earlier, at lunch. _Or_ when you have carefully made sure that Sea'n is fully occupied in dissecting Telgar and Benden wing-strategy with K'vret and T'lekan!' Meretin looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

'Was it that obvious?' he asked ruefully.

'Only to someone who knows you as well as I do.' Meretin did not add _or as well as Sea'n knows you_. He had been perfectly aware of Sea'n's eyes following him as he started up the steps after Elijah, and knew equally well that he was already worrying as to why his mate should need a visit from the Weyrhealer. He would wager a fair amount that Sea'n would arrive before long, having brought the discussion to a point where he could leave without anyone really noticing his departure.

Here in the privacy of the weyr, he could see distress in Elijah's face now, and realized he had been hiding that – and hiding it well – perhaps for a while.

'It's about Frideth that I need to ask. She's so very close to Clutching and I—' He stopped, seeming unable to put his misgivings into words.

Meretin nodded, knowing that only Frideth – or possibly Sea'n, though both looked to him to be in the best of health - could cause Elijah disquiet he might wish to conceal.

'What is it that you are worried about? Is she in some discomfort? Have you asked if she has pain anywhere?'

'No, no – she says that she is well, and I think that she is. It's—I just needed to ask—I couldn't do this now if she weren't on the feeding ground, enjoying a wherry that Sammath has brought. I don't want her – either of them – to know that I'm—'

'Elijah.' Meretin smiled reassuringly, now. He suspected that this was akin to the - usually groundless - fears natural to a young man before his spouse's first confinement.

He had noticed that weyrwomen varied in their reaction to the Clutching of a queen; some fussed and fretted for several sevendays beforehand, others were as pragmatic as if laying were an everyday occurrence. In the same way, one queen might start to lay before even informing her rider, where another needed her there on the Sands before she could begin at all. 'Dragons have been laying eggs for hundreds of turns – they do _know_ what to do by now!'

'I know – it isn't that. It's—' Elijah bit his lip. 'After I Impressed Frideth—'

Meretin waited. Worried Elijah may be, but Meretin could see in him the same quiet joy that suffused every rider's face, remembering the moment that defined the rest of his or her life. He had wondered many times what that must feel like, to retain so powerful an effect on them, even in their later turns; what it must be like to be a rider at all. And he could not begin to imagine how it would feel to be mated according to your dragon's choice, to fly with - _merge into_ \- the mating pair. He understood that even the coupling of blue and green was infinitely more intense than any climax achieved by non-riders; bronze with gold – always a longer, faster and higher flight – must be completely exceptional. And to have that with someone you loved, as Elijah loved Sea'n…

He had dreamed of Impression for himself, of course, of a dragon of his own - along with almost every other boy and many a girl on Pern - but neither rider nor dragon had ever so much as looked his way when they came on Search to the hold of his childhood. Even before he realized his life must lie in healing, Meretin had given up all hope of it – as Elijah must have done before the unforeseen, unimagined Impression of his queen.

He hadn't ever actually seen a Hatching until after he attained his journeyman's knots and was appointed to Fort Weyr, for initial healer training was on people, in the holds and never in Weyrs. Only masters and journeymen were trusted to tend dragonkind in sickness or injury – not that dragons were prone to any disorder other than the after-effects of injudicious eating in dragonets. A wide experience of human injury was deemed necessary before a healer could face with equanimity the dreadful, redoubled hurt that was a dragon's agonized whimper at her rider's searing Threadscore; or the anguish of a rider for his dragon's once graceful wing, delicate membrane shriveled to meager, tattered shards that draped and clung to sticks of bare and ravaged bone.

'After Impression,' Elijah said, 'everyone in the Weyr seemed always to be talking about us. I was somehow not supposed to notice, but I could hardly miss it. It was a shock that Frideth chose me, of course, so I don't blame them at all, really, but every single one of the weyrfolk seemed to have an opinion as to whether I—if I really—'

'Whether the fact that you were a boy would affect Frideth's ability to breed,' Meretin finished for him. The Healer Hall had naturally been consulted on the matter at the time. The Masters concluded that it should have no effect whatsoever, though Meretin as Weyrhealer should perhaps maintain a watch when the time came; their considered opinion had obviously not put an end to speculation.

'And all of that has come back to prey on your mind, now?' But there was surely more to it than that… 'It happens _still_?'

Elijah nodded silently, his eyes wide with doubt and apprehension.

'Had I heard, I would have given a piece of my mind to whoever dares say so! Elijah, her mating was no different from any other queen's – setting aside the fact that it was the most spectacular that has occurred in the skies above Pern for hundreds of turns! And she looks to me to be in the peak of condition. They say that a woman blooms when carrying a child – your Frideth positively glows!' Elijah colored happily at the compliment to his queen.

'She is obviously eating properly, with Sammath hunting and bringing food for her?'

'Yes. The eggs make her eat less but more often, now. This wherry means Sammath has finally admitted that she no longer has room for a whole herdbeast!' He could smile at that, despite his concern.

'Their devotion is quite extraordinary, isn't it?'

'The records say that great affection between dragons is a rare thing, but I know Frideth and Sammath truly love each other.' The fond smile became absent. 'Your dragon is part of you but there is also a need for your own kind – and she needed a mate as much as I did. They are so happy together. I just hope that…'

'What? What are you so worried about, Elijah, when she looks so well?'

'That there is good reason for queen-riders always to be female! That it – that I - _shall_ affect her ability to breed, because _I_ am _not_!'

'Elijah, I have not seen a queen so egg-heavy in a long while – that would seem to me to indicate that what _you_ are is irrelevant!'

'I know there are a lot of eggs inside her – I feel them, every time I rub in the oil. But eggs can fail, you _know_ they can! And more and more of them have done so these past few turns!' Elijah's voice was sharp now with the anxiety he was admitting to at last. 'Frideth – and Sammath – they are so sure that it will be a big clutch, and healthy too, and if it isn't – if there are many that fail to hatch, and Sammath has to… They will be so unhappy and it will be _my fault_, Meretin!'

'Nonsense!' the healer said bracingly. 'I do not for one moment believe that it will happen, but even if it did, you should not blame yourself. Frideth _chose_ you, Elijah. She might have had her pick from a fine selection of girls but she refused them with scarcely a glance. She made it very clear to every single person in the Hatching Ground that day that she was looking for you and _only_ you. I cannot believe that a queen could do so without some real and necessary reason, even if _we_ can have no idea what it may be. And that would _not_ include a deliberate decision never to breed – queens have far more sense than that! You should also remember _how_ Sammath came to be her mate.'

'I've never really understood that,' Elijah said, 'how he could know she would fly when she did – or why he chose to leave his Weyr and come to Telgar for her.'

'And yet, he did. There are many things in this world, Elijah, that lie beyond our understanding, and amongst them are the workings of dragonkind, though they freely dedicate their lives to the protection of ours. If Sammath could foresee Frideth's rising, then don't you think he could be right about the eggs, too?'

'Well, yes, probably,' Elijah said, though Meretin could see he was still not convinced. 'Will we be able to tell when she lays, or will we have to wait until Hatching?' He sounded as though a longer wait may be almost unendurable.

'They'll be too big for candling, that's for certain – and I very much doubt that Frideth would permit a flame of the size we'd need anywhere near her young! What do they feel like when you spread the oil on her?'

'Like solid, round bumps, what else?' He put out his hands to show how they flowed over and around the shapes and curves beneath as he smoothed oil into Frideth's belly.

'But do they feel cold through her skin? Heavy? Static?'

'Oh. No, nothing like that. They're warm and they slip out from under my fingers whenever I try to count them – almost as if they don't _want_ to be counted!' Elijah wiggled his fingers then and managed a grin for the elusive eggs.

'Well, I have to say that I think you are worrying unnecessarily. Frideth looks to be in the peak of condition, the eggs sound to be extremely live and active, and - more importantly than anything _I_ may think – she and Sammath are confident that they will be viable. That's good enough for me.'

Elijah nodded again, a little less anxious now.

'Have you spoken with Sea'n about this?'

'Spoken with me about what?'

Sea'n was here, just as he'd predicted. Meretin exchanged glances with Elijah, who shook his head. When Meretin raised a brow in question, he shrugged slightly which the healer took as permission. Well, perhaps to talk about this - _really_ talk - may be all they needed to make them realize certain _other_ things, too…

'Elijah has been rather concerned about something, Sea'n,' he said. 'I may have allayed his fears for the moment, but I think it is high time you discussed the matter between you. I feel sure that you could provide him with more… practical reassurance than I.'

With an encouraging nod, he took himself off down the stairs before they could say another word.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

 

Elijah looked quickly at Sea'n, and as quickly away from the worry and hurt so clear upon his face. He had not meant to cause that, and perhaps it _would_ have been better to talk to him before Meretin, but he had sheered away from the idea, for it touched too closely upon their weyrmating. The entire problem was that he was not female - and Sea'n knew that only too well already.

But he was waiting, now, head on one side inquiringly.

'It's Frideth,' Elijah said, reluctantly.

'Frideth? What's the matter with her – is she unwell?' His eyes unfocused.

_Frideth is very well. And so am I. Elijah worries but it is not necessary. _

Of _course_ Sea'n would ask Sammath – and it was not— 'Well, not Frideth – not exactly. It's more—' He stopped, unsure if he could say this to Sea'n at all.

'More...?' Sea'n prompted when the silence went on. 'Elijah, we are weyrmates – whatever concerns you also concerns me. I thought that was what weyrmating meant.' He looked both hurt and a little angry, now.

If that was what a true weyrmating should be, for Sea'n, then Elijah wanted it more than ever. And Crista had had that for turns; small wonder, then, that she would deeply resent him for taking Sea'n – taking that – from her. And maybe, with a deep breath, he could—

'It's more that—that I'm afraid that her eggs may fail—' another breath, and he blurted the rest before he could change his mind '—because I am not a girl!'

Sea'n said nothing, and Elijah thought for a moment that he may leave without a word. Again. As a weyrmate, he should admit to being of no use whatever to Sea'n; admit that if Frideth's eggs failed, if they hatched few or no live dragonets, it would be his fault and his alone. Because of him, Frideth may lose not only her young but the mate she loved and needed – just as he would lose Sea'n. And it would have been so good to know that Sea'n understood his fear. Understood it, and would not blame Elijah even if he and Sammath had to…

It would have been so reassuring to feel Sea'n's arms around him now, in the sort of hug for which S'ttan had been so thankful.

_Elijah would very much like for you to hold him, Sea'n. His fears are unnecessary, but they are very real._

Sammath had relayed his wish – and the silence that followed was almost palpable.

_Now_, he added helpfully, when Sea'n did not move.

'Sammath hears you?'

Beyond the surprise, there was no real way of judging Sea'n's reaction from three scant words. Elijah dared not look up, lest he see in Sea'n's face any one of the terrible, imagined things he might believe, may say; lest he should give himself away. He had always known that he should tell Sea'n he could talk with the bronze - that Sammath would even use his name. He nodded, ashamed now that he had allowed their covert communication to go on for so long.

'Since—since the day of Frideth's flight. I'm sorry, Sea'n – I know I should have told you. I don't hear when he wishes to speak privately to you, of course, but I can hear a great deal of what he says, and—' only full confession would be enough, here '—and I _have_ encouraged him to—to let my mind fly with his – with _you_ \- against Thread. I just wanted to know you were safe,' he added in a small voice, unable to look at Sea'n, aware that it must seem that he did not trust Sammath – or Sea'n himself – to keep them safe.

Sea'n did not respond, though Elijah heard Sammath answer him, sounding only slightly worried.

_Since first Frideth flew. You do not mind? Elijah is your weyrmate and the lifemate of mine._

'I—do not mind,' Sea'n said aloud, at last. 'And, you wish me to hold you?'

Elijah could only nod his assent. He knew that if he tried to speak his voice would crack and lay bare the secret he had guarded since their mating.

And then Sea'n was solidly warm against him. Elijah closed his eyes, breathing comfort from the scent he remembered so clearly, knowing that anyone who saw them now must find in his face exactly what he had seen on S'ttan's.

Sea'n's voice was muffled as he said, 'Hugs are much better when they are returned, you know.'

_Oh._ Elijah had kept his arms stiffly at his sides. Tentatively, he raised them now, hovered in a moment of indecision, and then placed his hands firmly on Sea'n's back. He thought Sea'n shuddered then, and would have pulled back but when he moved, Sea'n only tightened his hold.

'You should have told me that you were worried,' he said, his breath stirring Elijah's hair, warm and close. 'The eggs are as much Sammath's offspring as Frideth's. You and I should share the uncertainty just as much as the joy when they hatch.'

'But—but suppose that they do not?' Elijah's fear, confided to Sea'n's shoulder, began somehow to resolve itself to a milder concern that prickled but no longer sharply hurt.

'Sammath says they will, and that's good enough for me. Always trust to your dragon, Elijah - the rider's first rule!'

Elijah could only nod, intensely aware that Sea'n was still holding him - that he was still holding Sea'n, standing in the middle of their weyr - and that neither of them seemed to be about to let go. Which was wonderful in many ways, but would very shortly give rise, quite literally, to a different problem altogether.

Almost as though he heard the thought, Sea'n began to draw back, and Elijah sighed quietly, not wanting ever to relinquish Sea'n's touch and knowing that he must. But Sea'n did not let go completely. His hands, which had clasped Elijah to him so tightly, just slid down his arms and kept a loose hold of Elijah's.

'Better?' he asked, and smiled gently.

Elijah tried to say _yes,_ or _better_, or _thank you_ – anything to ward off the effect that smile was having on him, so close to him - close enough to simply lean into a kiss if only Sea'n had wanted it, too. His voice no longer seemed to work, though, and all he could do was look down to where Sea'n's hands were holding his, still. He knew that if he met Sea'n's eyes he must utterly betray himself.

_Elijah! _

Frideth?

Come and see, Elijah - you should be proud of me, as Sea'n should be proud of Sammath!

Her voice in his mind was glad and satisfied and not a little boastful - and Elijah knew instantly, from an indrawn breath and the tightening of Sea'n's hands over his, that Sea'n had also heard Frideth, had heard her use his name. He realized too what Frideth was telling him – what she was doing, and what she must already have done.

_Oh! A—a_ queen _egg?_ He had dared to imagine, but never allowed himself more than the smallest real hope. _And so soon! Really? _

Indeed! Frideth and Sammath together, each as smug as the other.

'Oh, Sea'n - a queen egg!'

Sea'n squeezed Elijah's hands in his, smile crinkling even wider with delight, and drew him forward, intending another hug, perhaps. But Elijah paused and looked up - and was caught and lost at once, as he'd known he must be. The golden warmth of Sea'n's eyes dissolved his defenses and made nothing of the tight control that had masked the truth of his heart. All hiding was at an end now; between joy and desire his every wish lay open here for Sea'n to see. In this moment he could only offer his love, and trust Sea'n to receive it as gently from him as from S'ttan, without scorn for what he could never fully accept.

Then Sea'n's smile sharpened into hope and wonder - and…and _invitation_?

Slowly, not quite believing in his welcome, Elijah leaned into the kiss he had wanted so much. The brush of lips was sweet and light – and nowhere near enough. The space between them filled with panting breaths and desire so keen Elijah could almost taste it, and he heard a desperate sound. Hesitant and possessive at once, eager and yet just a little unsure, it teetered from purr to growl and back by way of pleading. He had no idea at all how Sea'n made it, but he suspected he'd melt clear into him if he did it again. _Ohh!_

Sea'n pulled him suddenly close, no careful distance in this new embrace and no longer any room for doubt, with the press of Sea'n's body hard against him and Sea'n's tongue flickering at the seam of his mouth – not asking but demanding entrance. And _this_ kiss was neither sweet nor light but deep and searching, filled with need and passion and the hint of regret for time lost.

_Elijah, can you not do that later? I wish you to see my clutch! _

Our clutch! Sea'n, please come down!

Our clutch, Frideth conceded.

_We need you here!_ Their voices in unison.

'We have to stop!' Sea'n said then, though his lips moving fervently against Elijah's told of no such need.

'Yes.' But Elijah freed his mouth only enough for the single word on a shaky, pleasured breath - intent on returning Sea'n's kisses with all the love he could set within them.

And they were touching, really touching - Sea'n's hands cradling Elijah's head and Elijah's smoothing greedily over Sea'n's back, no hesitation now - and he might never have enough of this, touching and being touched. Beneath his fingers Sea'n was familiar yet strange; here were the shape and strength that had grounded him through Frideth's wild, capricious flight, where he'd clung oblivious as Sea'n brought him from fear into ecstasy. But clothed like this, he missed the smooth warmth of skin and the eager tremors that had proved Sea'n's control as he sought to give before he must take. The difference was easily remedied – not yet, perhaps, but very soon…

'I want you so much, Elijah!' Sea'n said, his thumbs gentle at the corners of Elijah's mouth.

_So do I,_ said Frideth. _I want you here, right_ now,_ Elijah! _

Their eyes met. Elijah giggled and Sea'n laughed aloud as he swung his weyrmate – his _true_ mate now, Elijah thought with a shiver of anticipation - in a circle, then gathered him into a loose hug, mindful still of their dragons' wishes.

Reluctantly they parted, and Elijah said, 'Sea'n, I—' just as Sea'n said, 'Elijah, we—'

_Later!_ Also in unison.

'Later, most definitely!' Sea'n said, grabbing Elijah by the hand and almost dragging him down the stairs and away to the Sands, where Frideth had just laid her fifth egg.

Way was made for them through the crowd that was rapidly collecting at the very edge of the Sands. A queen's laying – especially one as egg-heavy as Frideth – may last for quite some time, but it was customary to gather and observe for a while; from a distance only, laying queens not being noted for an equable temperament, and Sammath too was a looming presence, guarding his queen and their young.

Most riders had either wine or klah in hand to toast each new arrival, and those with more than a mark or so wagered on the final total watched with particular interest. As he hurried toward Frideth, Elijah caught sight of Meretin advancing with a purposeful expression upon T'dray, and knew he intended without further delay to collect his reward for the correct prediction of a queen egg.

Sea'n halted, to wait with the rest, and Elijah crossed the Sands wishing with every step that the soles of his boots were thicker; knowing that he would soon be hopping from foot to foot and looking both proud and silly, instead of just very proud of his queen. The heat necessary to brood the eggs – and Frideth had carefully chosen the place that was best for them, of course - would practically _cook_ his toes before too long.

There _you are!_ Frideth said, her tone slightly acerbic as well as relieved. The effect was somewhat spoiled by a sudden waggling bob that deposited another egg on the Sands.

_I'm sorry, dearest! I was—_ Elijah paused. He was fairly sure that his queen would not quite understand kissing.

_You were with Sea'n, and you were very happy,_ she said, forgivingly. _ But now you must look at our eggs – are they not beautiful?_

She had scooped a depression in the sand, or maybe Sammath had swung his tail in a wide arc – the marks on the sand looked rather like that, Elijah thought – and five mottled eggs were carefully arranged to surround a larger one that glinted gold. _Six _mottled eggs, he amended as Frideth waggled and bobbed again and added her latest child to the circle. He glanced up at Sammath and managed not to smile. Others would see only a huge bronze dragon, fierce in protection of mate and offspring, but Elijah could _feel_ his smugness.

_Very beautiful!_ Elijah agreed. _May I touch? _

Of course. Come, Sea'n - you must be here, too!

Elijah's heart seemed to swell in his chest. In this special, joyous moment, in front of the whole Weyr, his queen was acknowledging his weyrmate - his queen, who was half of himself and his mate, who was half of his heart.

_And I? _

And you too, Sammath, who are half of my Sea'n, and whom I love as I love them!

Sea'n bowed to Frideth and thanked her before setting off across the Sands. While pretending not to notice at all, Elijah grinned happily at the echoing gasps and exclamations from the onlookers as they realized Frideth must have spoken directly to Sea'n. That she had _invited_ him to see her clutch - for no rider would ever dare to approach without the queen's express permission.

It was proof to everyone, Elijah thought with great satisfaction, that Sea'n was his mate in all things (or at least, he soon _would_ be). Proof far more significant, more positively _blatant_ \- than the longest, widest riding strap to be found anywhere on Pern. Sea'n caught his eye and laughed aloud, and Elijah knew that he understood and was more than happy for that message to be read so.

Elijah jiggled from foot to foot to ease the ever-increasing discomfort, then stood carefully still and put out a hand to the eggs – eight of them now, as Frideth positioned another. Goodness, she was in a hurry to complete her family! Their shapes were familiar to his fingers, though the soft suede of her skin was gone and here instead was a smooth and slightly yielding surface he had never met before. Every one of them was warm and Elijah could not doubt they were alive. With hands and mind he heard them, thrumming almost silently with the life of the dragonets within, as though – tiny as yet but already indomitable – they could barely contain their eagerness to hatch into the world and find lifemates of their own. He gestured to Sea'n to feel them for himself.

'_May_ I touch, please, Frideth?'

_You may,_ she said, blinking acquiescence too, and Elijah thought another egg may be imminent, but she merely adjusted her offspring to a more perfect circle and moved to twine necks with her mate.

Sea'n reached to the nearest egg, running a finger lightly over its mottling. 'Oh!' he said reverently. 'I had thought the shell would be harder than this.'

Elijah was puzzled. Surely Sea'n must have handled eggs before? Sea'n caught his frown and said, 'I was never before invited to touch eggs so new. Allibeth did not speak to me and Crista did not ask. I am most grateful to Frideth for this gift.'

Since Elijah had lived at the Weyr, three of the queens had Clutched – the fourth, Sinitroth, had not laid in many more turns than that. He had watched their laying from safety with the other riders and weyrfolk, and realized now that he had seen only the weyrwoman out there on the Sands with her queen; usually the bronze too, of course, but never his rider, her weyrmate. He would have expected no more of Jendria, but K'vret and A'sren had been weyrmated with Lenara and Riana since before he came to Telgar, and he thought – looking at the wonder on Sea'n's face - that they too would have enjoyed this small part in the mystery that was dragonkind. Frideth's full acceptance of Sea'n was indeed a great gift.

_Sea'n is a good man – did I not so say so from the beginning?_

You did, you did, and you are so right and so clever and so wonderful, and I am so happy!

Elijah couldn't help it, he _needed _to touch Sea'n again, right then. Not the way he wanted to _most_, of course, but a hug was admissible, even out here on the Sands with all of Telgar looking on.

Admissible, perhaps - but a temptation almost too far when Sea'n held him close, nuzzled at his ear and whispered, 'I really, _really_ want you!' a film of laughter overlying the tight desire in his voice as he pulled away from the instinctive press of Elijah's body against him.

'Tease!' Elijah breathed, knowing that a louder response would be heard by everyone avidly watching them.

Sea'n raised his eyebrows, smiled wickedly, and shook his head very, very slowly.

Elijah swallowed hard and was almost relieved when Frideth broke the tension that – amongst other things - was rising between them. She shuffled back to her clutch and, with another bob and waggle, deposited a ninth egg – and Elijah realized that for the moment she was shielding them from sight. He seized Sea'n's face between his hands and kissed him rapidly, letting go with an aggrieved sigh just as Sea'n's tongue-tip met and playfully coaxed at his own; letting go not from choice but because Sammath rumbled a tactful, laughing snort in both their minds to tell them that Frideth was moving further round to place her egg properly with the others. Too late - whistles and cheers proved that they _had_ been seen.

'This,' Sea'n said ruefully, 'is going to be a _very_ long evening!' and Elijah remembered that the meal would be a celebration of the Weyr's good fortune - and that there was no way the two of them could miss it.

The need to jiggle asserted itself again - over any other need, unlikely as that had seemed while they were kissing. His feet were now so hot that scrunching his toes inside his boots made no difference at all, and he knew that he had to leave the Sands, at least for a while. He spread his arms across Frideth's muzzle and hugged himself to her. _You are the most wonderful queen Pern has ever had_, he said, _and I love you - but my feet hurt too much to stay longer! Will there be many more eggs?_

Many more, Frideth agreed complacently, _but perhaps not so quickly. I do not feel so full and tight, now. _

Elijah could see by his grin that Sea'n had heard, and that he too was reminded of the first escape of ale from a shaken bottle. Sea'n was also trying valiantly to keep his feet still, out of respect for Frideth, but Elijah knew exactly how uncomfortable he was. _We shall return later!_ he promised, taking hold of Sea'n's hand and sprinting away with him to stand on cooler rock.

The meal became a celebration indeed, and conversation all around was of queens and their eggs, with famous clutches recalled, relived, re-hatched. Riders proposed ever more expansive toasts – to Frideth, to the young queen to come, to the entire clutch, however big it might be; to their own dragons, to each others', to the queens; to the Weyr, the Weyrs, Pern's queens, Pern… until many were so befuddled they were almost incoherent. At intervals, a different weyrling would arrive at a run, panting with news of the most recent egg; they had taken it upon themselves to keep the count for Elijah and Sea'n. A pair stood on constant watch, hurrying back in turn to the feast to report each arrival and trade off with a new watcher.

Elijah ate without really noticing what had been on his plate. He wasn't drinking that much wine, he thought, but it was almost as though there were two of him here. One of them was behaving quite normally - talking, replying to questions, smiling his pride and delight, thanking the weyrlings, raising a cup with every rider who pledged his queen and her clutch. So very many toasts must entail a fair drop of wine, so perhaps he _had_ overdone it, just a little? He had no idea how Sea'n had managed to nurse a single cup through every one, but he knew that he had – and also why.

The other Elijah knew of nothing beyond Sea'n and Sea'n's eyes upon him - firelight and glow-light glinting their gold into bright desire over darkest green. Sea'n's smile, warm and knowing – _loving_ (why had he never seen that before?) - turning him inside out with need, now he knew that Sea'n wanted him too. Nothing beyond the fervent promise in Sea'n's words, in his kisses; beyond the insistent memory from so long ago of Sea'n's hands and mouth upon him, Sea'n's body against his, Sea'n making love to him, touching him, taking him…

The caverns grew hot and blurry, and it was not the wine, he knew. His heart was beating faster, his skin shivery with hope and longing. Other riders were leaving now, and surely they could do so, too? But first he must visit Frideth – the latest count had been twenty nine and he told her that he would—

_There are many eggs_, Frideth said then, _and still more to come. You should sleep, Elijah – tomorrow you shall see! _

But—

No. Sea'n – please take Elijah to bed!

'It will be my pleasure, Frideth.' Sea'n said it aloud, too, and there was no tease in his words at all now - only honesty and so much tenderness that Elijah was unsure if his knees would support him as far as their weyr.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~


	17. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _… Sea'n, please take Elijah to bed …_

'It will be my pleasure, Frideth.'

Sea'n stood from the table and offered his hand and all that he was to Elijah.

He could scarcely believe what had happened so fast. One moment he'd been hurt beyond measure - that Elijah had so little trust in him, in their weyrmating, that he would find it easier to share his deepest fears with the Weyrhealer in Sea'n's stead. Almost the next, he was holding Elijah in his arms again, at last – at Sammath's invitation but by Elijah's own request. From the day of their mating, Sea'n had savored the fact that Sammath always used Elijah's name; he was elated to find that his dragon would also speak to his weyrmate and love. But that Frideth would not only name _him_ \- that she should have _spoken_ to him - surpassed all expectation. And then—

Then Elijah had looked at him, still a little worried, perhaps, but in his eyes had been… Sea'n thought he saw need there - and not need alone, but also… love? Hope flared bright within him, though the decision must be Elijah's - and Elijah had leaned hesitantly into a kiss.

The touch of lips was light upon Sea'n's – deniable, perhaps, in case Elijah should find it a mistake. So light it only served to hone sharp want to sudden desperation. Desire too long-concealed escaped him then, on a shameless sound that begged and demanded, loved and claimed… He had reached out for Elijah - and Elijah melted against him, pliant and willing and as hard as Sea'n himself; his mouth opening already to a kiss that translated hopeless longing into wonder.

To be called from such kisses was a wrench, but they had time, now - all the time and turns that were left to them, once Frideth's present need of Elijah was met. And there she had crowned Sea'n's joy with the greatest accolade a queen could bestow. She invited him to stand beside Elijah - with his mate and with hers - at that sublime moment in their lives. It was her full acceptance of him into the circle of their love: weyr- and lifemate to life- and weyrmate.

And now, she gave Elijah to him once more. Not the way he had expected, on a day of the distant future: another mating, higher and more intense, perhaps, but hasty and over far too soon, with its endless waiting for the next.

_Now_, and _here_ \- and burningly real.

_Sea'n, please take Elijah to bed. _

It will be my pleasure…

Far more than that, this must be for Elijah's pleasure.

Gently lacing their fingers together, Sea'n drew him across the cavern to the stairs. Elijah was silent and seemed just a little unsteady on his feet. Candessa had broached a bottle of the finest – and strongest - wine that Telgar's cellars possessed; the way she beamed as she poured for them told Sea'n she knew, somehow, that they had even more to celebrate than Frideth's safe clutching. For more reasons than one, he'd resolved not to go beyond a single cup – but Elijah had politely drunk with every rider who toasted his queen and may well be just a little fuddled.

Sea'n would happily have swept him into his arms and away to their weyr, but this was not - must not hold even the slightest echo of - a dragon-driven coupling. That was all Elijah had known - a mating fast and fierce, and both of them in thrall to their dragons' passion. He had yet to discover the joys of long, slow lovemaking that Sea'n ached to show to him; that he had dreamed, both sleeping and waking, each day since they met. In that one mating, he had given to Elijah only what was possible in the time Sammath allowed – and it had been more wonderful than anything he had known. Since then, set against such glory, the solace of his own hand had been a pale nothing - release and nothing more, for the true delight lived only in his mind, where he could linger in love and give all to his Elijah.

Sea'n needed no dragon spur; he had wanted Elijah before he'd known who or what he was, and learning him had simply drawn his desire tighter with each day.

Elijah was flushed and warm, his eyes liquid bright and lips enflamed to coral, and Sea'n knew that it was not solely the wine. His palm was hot and damp against Sea'n's, and the slight tremble of his hand said that Elijah was both eager and perhaps just a little anxious.

But their eyes met, and that same look was in Elijah's: offering everything, claiming nothing - only asking, openly now; an intimacy of trust that was so much what Sea'n wanted, too. He knew then how foolishly they had hidden from each other, taking what little they could from silence and denial, when the only thing lacking between them had been this honest connection. He vowed that never again would he withhold anything from Elijah, in look or word or deed. And perhaps Elijah saw that in him, for he smiled and Sea'n's heart turned over within his breast.

He might have taken Elijah in his arms right there on the stairs but there were still too many people about and he squeezed Elijah's hand instead, just as Barlek passed them, coming down.

'Master Meretin sent me to your weyr with a tray. Quiet, like,' he said, with a smile that seemed to Sea'n to be proprietary - and also rather knowing, ''cause he knows you can rely on me, see? Stuff you might need, healer said. Wine and juice, and stuff. With cups, o'course. And some fruit. And a few small bites to eat - them little cakes. And stuff.'

They thanked him and he nodded and grinned, and set off down the steps. Before he had gone far, he paused and called after them, 'Weyr-rider? Marinis and me, we're really pleased about Frideth's eggs, too!'

_Too?_ That grin was _distinctly_ knowing. Sea'n had wondered at Meretin's sudden concern for their sustenance; now, he had a shrewd idea what else that tray may hold that they would need this night, when even the bathing room may seem a step too far.

He held aside the curtain and would have drawn Elijah into an embrace as soon as it fell closed behind them, but Elijah slipped quickly past him.

'Wait!' he said.

'Oh, I have,' Sea'n said. 'I really _have_!'

'I know!' Elijah agreed ruefully, as he collected a spare strap from Frideth's harness to hang across the entrance to their weyr. 'And I'm not sure we'll need this at all, but I have wanted to do it for so long, because—because I wanted you so much, Sea'n. I wanted you to want me and for everyone to know it…'

'Well, Frideth has told the entire Weyr for us, now,' Sea'n said, with satisfaction, 'and tomorrow morning - bright and early while _we_ are still abed,' he waggled his eyebrows and Elijah grinned happily, 'Telgar's green-riders will probably make sure that the whole of Pern knows it! And the very last thing we need - now _or_ then - is a procession of weyrlings intent on bringing us the latest tally of her eggs, so _do_ it!'

The humor tugging at the corners of Elijah's mouth tugged also deep within Sea'n. He knew beyond doubt that to pleasure and enjoy his Elijah as he intended – as carefully and lovingly as he had so often dreamed – would tax his control far more than the long restraint.

'This is how it should be,' he said softly. 'Both of us, together, on the inside.' He offered his hands, palm upward, and Elijah turned back to him and laid his own upon them.

He opened his mouth to speak, then, but Sea'n could find far better uses for lips and tongue than explanation. None of it mattered at all when Elijah was swaying forward into his arms, into the kiss that was a welcome home, was the end to all longing and a promise of so much more to come.

But Elijah's kisses seemed to know already how to wind desire through Sea'n - swift and sharp and sweet, Elijah's body moving with desperate concentration against him. He was too young _not_ to be urgent and eager - and young enough to have both fast and slow this night. Sea'n must simply rein his own desires to match his fantasies (and thank the Egg for the ten turns he had over his importunate mate).

For this would be their first loving; first mating had belonged to Frideth and Sammath, wild and unbridled as their dragons' lust, and surpassing every other Sea'n had known at Sammath's bidding; he had wanted Elijah even then, though he had not understood it in himself. What they would have here was far beyond rival or race, fear or hurt - even their dragons no closer than thought. Tonight was theirs alone.

Sea'n may still not understand, but Elijah was everything he had never known to want.

He did know that Elijah's haste may well undo him far too soon, for Elijah's body, his kisses and his gasping breaths all insisted _fast_ and _you_ and _now!_ Sea'n took a deep breath of his own, said 'Shh!' and guided him to sit on the bed.

'Boots,' he said succinctly and knelt. Elijah nodded then and managed a tight smile as Sea'n tugged them off; pushing Sea'n down and kneeling before him to return the favor. Clumsy in his haste, he glared and then grinned sheepishly when Sea'n laughed at his tumble backwards, boot in hand. As soon as both were barefoot he crawled forward on his knees, his hands skimming purposefully up Sea'n's legs. Even with sturdy fabric between, his touch was a powerful caress.

Sea'n dragged in a sharp breath and shook his head, catching gently at Elijah's wrists. He pulled Elijah to stand between his thighs and looked up, bottom lip held fast between his teeth, the small pain a curb to his desire for now.

'Please,' he said then. 'Elijah – I need to do this. Let me, please?'

The words swirled warm and damp through the folds of Elijah's shirt and Elijah shivered, but his hands fell aside and he nodded again, swallowing audibly.

Another breath, and Sea'n could concentrate again, working deftly upward - no lingering when the last button would yield Elijah freely to his eyes at last, half-naked here for him alone. He pushed away cloth, gentle where bruises remained as darkening shadow over skin as creamy-pale as morning's milk. With careful fingers he traced the smooth column of Elijah's throat, feeling the pulse of him fast and wild beneath. He nuzzled forward then, applying lips and hands, and the slight roughness of his cheeks to the satin glide of Elijah's belly. Elijah's hands clenched blindly to keep from grasping at Sea'n, his need measured sharply in hitching whimpers of restraint.

Sea'n might have teased at dark nipples already risen and inviting his touch, but the quiver of skin against his face warned that Elijah was so close already, too close for such sweet torture. He raised his head, and above him Elijah was all wide eyes and parted lips, the blue smoky, hot and wanting, now. Sea'n smiled, slowly. 'Yes,' he said.

Holding their gaze, he slid his fingers from button to trouser button, to complete his unveiling of Elijah; every part of him open now to sight and touch, to the loving slide of Sea'n's lips. He spread his hands wide, relishing silken skin over firm muscle as he cupped Elijah to him, his tongue brushing insistently in long and liquid caresses.

Elijah gasped Sea'n's name, his voice high and tight, hands clutching in earnest now, threading Sea'n's hair for balance. He rocked forward into Sea'n's waiting mouth and Sea'n welcomed him with lips and tongue and one broad hand, drawing pleasure from him, swift and wanton - so sudden and so beautiful that Sea'n's control almost failed him as Elijah fell apart into his hands.

It was perfect and it was more than perfect. It was Elijah.

Sea'n caught and held him, rolling them carefully to lie side by side in the center of the bed - close but with their bodies not quite touching. He concentrated only on breathing, forcing himself to match the slowing pace of Elijah's breaths: fast and frantic steadying by degrees to deep and satisfied - though the last was not for him, not yet. Much as he desired Elijah, there was more he wished to give before he would allow himself to take.

Perhaps this night could not compete with a dragon-mating for intensity, but what Sea'n needed with Elijah was far beyond the expedient desire and swift taking that dragon-lust impelled, beyond the solid practicality of a weyrmating. Sea'n wanted to give all the tenderness and love that was in him; to show Elijah that this was for him alone - and for always. And he had begun to hope – to believe – that Elijah needed the same of him.

He propped himself onto one elbow to watch Elijah gradually come back to himself. Even before his eyes opened, his hand was reaching out for Sea'n, and he smiled.

'Sea'n…' he said softly.

Sea'n leaned down with a kiss, but when Elijah yielded to him, he resisted the invitation to _more_ and _deeper_, only circling his mouth with butterfly touches. He suckled lightly at the tempting bottom lip, but lingered nowhere long enough for Elijah to inveigle him too soon into giving in to his need.

'Sea'n?'

'Shh - let me,' Sea'n said, again.

'But… you?' Elijah's forehead creased into a puzzled frown. He set fingers to the buttons of Sea'n's shirt, but Sea'n caught his hand and brought it up to smooth against his cheek.

'Not yet,' he said, and turned his head to brush a kiss to the inside of Elijah's wrist, smiling satisfaction at his sudden gasp. Sea'n could almost see the caress shiver stealthily through him, edging him toward arousal again already.

'Do you not—' Elijah's voice was truly confused, now, 'I thought—do you not want me?'

Sea'n huffed a breathless laugh that held love and desire, and a long wanting. He thrust lightly against Elijah's hip, just once, and withdrew as quickly from such exquisite temptation. 'You can't tell how much?'

'Then why…?' Elijah waved his hand now, to point the contrast between his nakedness and Sea'n's clothed body. But Sea'n's eyes caught the wave and slowly drifted with it over every inch of him, and then as slowly back to meet his gaze - and Elijah blushed.

'I don't just want to take you, Elijah - I want to make love to you.'

'Sea'n, I think you just _did_!'

'But as soon as these clothes come off, I know I won't be able to hold back any longer, and I really want this with you, for you. I have lain here beside you like this every morning, and every morning I've wanted just to reach out and touch. I didn't think you would ever want me to. And now I know that I can…'

He smiled tenderly and smoothed tendrils of hair from Elijah's face, tucking them carefully behind his ear. With a single finger and the lightest of touches he traced the rim before leaning to take the lobe between his lips. His tongue flickered it to and fro, then Sea'n drew it into his mouth in a gentle suck that ended even before the catch of Elijah's indrawn breath.

'Now that I can,' he whispered, 'I want to look and touch and kiss - all the things I thought I had to hide.'

'But I want to touch you too, Sea'n!'' Elijah began to push himself up, stopping short as Sea'n's lips brushed his shoulder, trailing words there, warm and damp and pleading.

'And I really want you to. But if you do it now, all will be over for me – too quick and much too soon! For as long as I can, here – let me have my dream? I think you might enjoy it…' The smile in his voice barely masked the sharp edge of his need.

Elijah's own smile was a little strained, but he settled back onto the bed. Sea'n followed him down with a slide of liquid kisses to the flawless line of his neck, tracing the remnants of pain over shoulder and arm, feeling the texture change beneath his lips where new skin mended fading hurt.

Through their turns together, Sea'n would set himself to learn Elijah; where he liked a touch so light it was only just this side of tickling, and where a teasing nip was even more welcome; where a mere skim was enough to rouse desire, and where a firmer stroke would draw pleasure to the full. Only Elijah could teach those skills - and here at Sea'n's fingertips lay every incentive in the world to heed the lesson that he gave. Even beneath untutored caresses, Elijah shifted and sighed, new to such delights as yet, but guiding Sea'n already toward the mastery he sought.

'I thought you didn't _want_ to touch me - in any way at all! You—' Elijah swallowed a breathless moan as Sea'n's tongue glided, curling and teasing, from one eager nipple to the other. 'Everyone knew you only ever mated weyrwomen,' he panted. 'I didn't really know you, but I knew _that_!'

Sea'n shook his head and smoothed a hand lovingly down Elijah's body. He riffled his fingers through the smudge of dark hair, nudging gently at the proof that Elijah was no woman, his desire more sharply whetted by the answering stir beneath his touch. 'I didn't – still don't – understand it,' he said, 'but from the moment I looked at you that morning, I wanted you. I hadn't the least idea who you were, and yet I thought of making love to you.'

'I wanted you, too.' Elijah closed his eyes and stilled; Sea'n knew there must be remembered fear for him as well as the joy of mating - but now his mate would share that too. 'I was scared,' he confessed, 'so scared that Tennoth would win Frideth - or any dragon whose rider I—could not like and wouldn't want to touch me at all. Especially not… And then – you were there and I wanted you, desperately wanted _you_ to be the one who would take me, even though I knew it was impossible, that I would have to…'

He tensed, and Sea'n saw in his face the echo of that fear. He laid his palm flat against Elijah's – no seduction in his touch now, only reassurance.

'More than anything I was terrified that I would hold Frideth back. That her mating flight would end in disaster and not triumph the way it should – the way it _did_, because Sammath brought you here for me - for us!' He laced his fingers with Sea'n's and clasped them tightly together.

'And almost the first thing you said to me afterward was that you preferred girls!' Sea'n said - mock-accusing, wanting to lighten the mood once more.

'Well, _you_ had just told _me_ that you never mated boys!' Elijah treated him to a quick glower and then shrugged ruefully. 'I'd always thought I did, before you—before we… I didn't know it would—that it _could_ ever be like that, Sea'n. And after - I really wanted you to stay with me. I was so sure you'd just leave, though. That you would go back to—to Crista. I was sure that only Sammath's need for Frideth could make you take me.'

Sea'n shook his head again. 'No, it was you, far more even than Sammath,' he said. 'I think I was lost from that first mug of klah – and as for the butter—!' He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

'You noticed that, too?' Elijah widened his eyes deliberately, and his knowing grin turned wanton.

'The way you suck your fingers, Elijah, is something that should only ever be allowed in private – for me to watch and… appreciate!'

Elijah slowly lifted their joined hands to his lips, untangling their fingers to kiss each of Sea'n's. He singled out the middle one, flickering his tongue around it and licking slowly up and down. He caught and held Sea'n's gaze as he took it gently between his teeth - a teasing nip and he sucked it right inside, released it, and then sucked again… and again. The deliberate flutter of his lashes would have made even the most flirtatious of green-riders proud.

But humor dissolved to instant arousal and Sea'n's smile was lost to the choked stutter of his breathing. He knew he had come to the end of all resistance to his need for Elijah - in fact, if this went on much longer… He hastily pulled back his hand.

Elijah's mouth released him with a wet _pop_ \- and Sea'n was not the only one who was panting. 'You think I'm good at—that?' His voice was somehow mischievous and needy, both at once.

'I'm _sure_ you are,' Sea'n gasped, 'and I'm more than happy for you to prove it on me - some other time! Right now…' He rolled rapidly from the bed and skinned out of his clothes. He couldn't resist a fleeting, triumphant thought, as several buttons pinged across the floor, that Hennest must make do with stitching those.

'Right now, there are other things I need – desperately! Elijah?' His throat was so dry, the words came out stilted and hoarse.

Elijah eagerly met him and pulled him down, skin to skin at last – no barrier between Sea'n and the smooth slide of Elijah that he'd waited so long to feel once more, his beautiful body sheened already with heat and renewed longing. He seized Sean's face as he had on the Sands, but this time the coaxing was less playful than intent, and he keened his desire into Sea'n's mouth.

Against Elijah's belly Sea'n was hot and hard and already leaking. Only the fear of hurting his love could have made him slow and stop, breaking their kiss to reach out to the bedside, hurriedly fumbling for the salve he'd known Meretin's tray must contain.

This time he could pause at his fingers' insistence that even with a careful stretching, Elijah was too small, too tight - that Sea'n would never fit, though he knew that he could, and had. But they moved in slow and gentle circles, and Elijah relaxed around them, inviting, _drawing_ him in - and perhaps after all—

Elijah thrust suddenly upward, eyes flying wide and mouth opening, swollen red and wet from their kisses, and Sea'n had found the _something_ inside that made Elijah demand what both of them wanted so much.

'Now, Sea'n! _Now_!'

Salving himself must be quick and cautious, even his own touch a torture of anticipation. Somehow he remembered the exact tilt that laid Elijah open to this first uncertain push; eager and urgent but wary too, lest Elijah's fervor should tempt him into too fast a taking.

But this was no helpless virgin boy, subject to the lust of his dragon queen; this was Elijah, who knew now exactly what he needed and would wait no longer. His clutch on Sea'n's body was determined, his heels insistent on Sea'n's back – claiming him, dragging him down into a kiss and deep inside in that same moment.

And Sea'n found that his waking dreams had not truly remembered the wonder of this - the heat and the taut cling of Elijah. He dared not move, not yet, for that would be to end it far too soon; he could only draw one deep breath after another, releasing them slowly as he strove for control. And Elijah understood, for he stilled beneath Sea'n, his kisses easing to a press of lips on Sea'n's forehead.

The wait seemed nearly as long as a Pass – but at last he could allow himself a gentle, half-withdrawal and a faster return, another and another. He set a steadily quickening rhythm then, the pleasure more intense with every stroke as each tremor of Elijah's need coiled tight around him. Despite all haste Sea'n was still so aware of him – of his head arching backward, lids half-shuttered over eyes that glittered with desire, red lips slightly parted, soft and slack: Elijah, focused only on this merging of their bodies, and on the frantic working of his own hand between them.

He must also have forgotten the delicious sounds Elijah made – or perhaps they happened only now the lovemaking was their own? Small noises, mere hitches of breath, in whistling cadences that dragged tortuously through his teeth - keener and more often as Sea'n increased his pace; _ah!_ whispered and repeated, short and low; and best of all, as Elijah faltered on the brink, he heard his own name splinter almost silently into more fragments than should have been possible - and more arousing than the loudest moan could ever be.

For an incredible moment Sea'n paused to watch the desperate need on Elijah's face sharpen to amazement, then melt into pure ecstasy. His eyes fully opened and he gasped, 'I love you!' clenching fast around Sea'n. And Sea'n's love for him twisted tightly with his desire, spiraling away beyond any control - and Sea'n was as lost as Elijah.

As always, at the last, he felt the familiar touch within his mind, delicate and wordless, that said his dragon was with him in all things - but it was no longer Sammath alone. Somehow, it was Sammath _and_ Frideth – and Elijah, too.

Far sooner than he really wanted to, but knowing he was too heavy to lie longer on Elijah and too spent to support himself, Sea'n pulled carefully away and settled at his side. His eyes were closed but he knew the sound of Elijah turning to face him, felt the stir of breath sweet upon his face.

'Sea'n?'

'Mmm?'

'May I touch you now?' The mischief was back again - overlaid now with so much tenderness that Sea'n had to swallow around the joy that almost took his voice.

'Of course,' he said thickly, 'but you're a considerable optimist if you think I have your speed of recovery!'

'Not the point,' Elijah said quietly. 'I've wanted to do this for a long time, too.' His fingers stroked slowly up Sea'n's arm, shaping his collarbones and the hollow of his throat.

'Perhaps I was a little selfish.' Sea'n shivered as Elijah criss-crossed his chest with the lightest of touches - scattered motes of pleasure that melted to a vast contentment. 'I'm s—'

Elijah cut him off with a soft kiss. 'No, you just like to give. And you were right – I did enjoy it. Every last bit of it!'

'Mmmm…' Sea'n said. 'Me too!'

Elijah's fingers trailed further down - and stopped short. 'Um…' he said, and sat up hastily.

Sea'n was suddenly aware of the tacky-drying pull across his belly. He dabbed blindly with one hand and found the sticky drag of hair and skin on Elijah too. 'Towel,' he remembered, 'folded, on the tray – there seems no end to Meretin's helpfulness!' His eyes followed Elijah as he stretched to bring it, relishing the smooth lines line of his body – his to watch or caress at will, now.

'He worries about us - he always has, about me. Maybe from now on he'll let you do it instead!' Elijah wiped each of them carefully, then gazed at Sea'n from beneath lowered lashes, the seductive effect marred only a little by a suppressed but insistent yawn. 'A bath would be more… effective than this, you know…'

Sea'n sighed loudly, pulled him down and kissed him thoroughly. 'We are _not_ both eighteen, Elijah! Tomorrow!' He dragged the covers over them and collapsed again.

'Promise?'

There was a laughing pout in Elijah's voice, but Sea'n's reply was completely serious.

'I promise you all the tomorrows I may have,' he said quietly.

'Accepted – and mine are yours, of course. So long as—'

His pause might simply have been a tease - but the silence went on. When Sea'n raised himself on one elbow to look, Elijah's head was tucked down, his face half-hidden. Sea'n brushed the hair aside, smoothing at his frown with careful fingers.

'Elijah?'

'I—Frideth… Sea'n, what—' His voice was tight with anxiety now, his eyes full of fear as they looked into Sea'n's. 'What if—?'

Sea'n understood at once. He drew Elijah gently into his arms, putting his own conviction into words for the first time.

'Sammath sees many things that are beyond ordinary knowing, not only Frideth's rising. I don't know how, but he does and I have learned to trust to that. When he brought me to Telgar that day, he told me that Frideth must and would be his, as no other queen could ever be. He gave me hope that you would always be mine to weyrmate, even if I could have no more of you than their matings would allow. From this day forward, for as long as Frideth will accept Sammath, you need never fear to be taken without love. The queen's choice is sovereign always, but he will allow no other bronze to win her so long as he is the one she truly wants. And,' he lifted Elijah's face to his and kissed him gently, 'if I am who _you_ want, we shall never be parted.'

Elijah buried his head in the crook of Sea'n's neck. 'We shall never be parted,' he echoed, and relaxed - suddenly and completely - into Sea'n's embrace, breath slowing as the fear passed.

Sea'n gave him a gentle shake. 'This weyr needs only one worrywart,' he said, 'and that position is mine alone!' Elijah's answer was a quick giggle as he reached up into a slow, sweet kiss that contained nothing of desire, only love.

They settled back on the bed once more and Elijah snugged tight into Sea'n's side, head resting on his shoulder as though it had belonged there always. There was silence for a little while, and Sea'n thought that he was sleeping until Elijah's drowsy question drifted out of the gathering dark.

'Sea'n? After I was attacked – did I imagine it or did you really kiss me just before I fell asleep?'

Sea'n smiled. 'I didn't think you would remember - you weren't really with me by then. I—it was the only way I could give you my love without you knowing.'

Elijah roused himself enough to look up at him, then. 'All of it was love, Sea'n – I know that now. And when you held me so close and warm and comforting – a kiss was the only thing I could have wanted. A kiss I _knew_ about!' he added, pointedly.

'In future, I'll make sure you know about every one I give you. Will that satisfy you?'

Trying to laugh and yawn at the same time, Elijah failed at both, and snuggled up again instead. 'Yes,' he said, his voice fading with tiredness now, but happily content. 'Oh, yes…'

Sea'n smiled again. 'Kiss,' he whispered, nuzzling his lips softly into Elijah's hair as he followed him into sleep.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~


	18. The Golden Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _… It is _my_ turn to have my long, slow way with _you_…_

Elijah woke slowly - warm and sleepy, but with arousal unfurling already within him. His first thought, as ever, was for his queen, but Frideth was still sleeping. He realized then that she was not on her ledge and instantly remembered everything. That she was on the Sands with Sammath and her eggs, and did not need him yet.

That he was here with Sea'n – who had made love to him.

They had made love - and promises, far beyond weyrmating. Sea'n was truly his mate, now. He need never again worry that… Elijah turned his head to smile at him – and Sea'n was not there.

Elijah's eyes flew wide, but before he could start up from the bed to discover exactly where he may have gone, Sea'n's voice said informatively, 'Please take note that I am about to kiss you.'

Indeed he was - but the huffed laugh with which he said it stirred cool air, not before Elijah's face as Sea'n bent to take his lips in the promised kiss, but instead somewhat below his waist.

Elijah was instantly inclined to some considerable stirring of his own, especially when Sea'n abandoned singularity to a string of further kisses, wet and teasing. His mouth slithered slowly and purposefully along taut and straining skin until it reached the tip – and Elijah thrust hastily upward, lest Sea'n should have had no such intention.

Whether that was his goal or not, Sea'n certainly seemed set on making the best of it – the very best, from Elijah's point of view. Wrapping him with one wide palm, Sea'n took him in, his mouth hot and knowing, his tongue skilled already in this way of bringing pleasure to his mate - keen and unbearable and wonderful at once – and very quickly too much, for Sea'n was sucking ecstasy from him, into him, as sharp and perfect as anything Elijah had known.

The next thing he knew was the breath he had first expected, a whisper of warning and a soft kiss to his brow that was simply not enough. The rest of him seemed no longer to work, but he managed to lift one enervated hand to pull Sea'n down so he could take his mouth in a proper kiss that was still too brief - from lack of breath, not need.

Sea'n nuzzled into his neck, asking, not demanding, waiting patiently until Elijah should stop panting and have energy to spare. But when at last he had, Elijah propped himself on one elbow and looked at Sea'n with mischief in mind.

'Wasn't there something you wanted me to prove to _you_, this morning?' He flicked his tongue along his bottom lip suggestively.

Sea'n's body was more than interested, but he shook his head. 'Another time,' he said.

Elijah stared disbelievingly. 'Sea'n?'

Sea'n looked back and raised a brow. 'Last night?' he suggested gently.

'Oh. Oh, yes. But, didn't someone also mention a bath…?'

'Elijah!'

'And, since it's my fault you need one, it's only fair that I should get you clean, _isn't_ it?'

'Eli-_jah_!'

That last note was something of a whine, Elijah thought, and grinned wickedly. 'But, Sea'n - that _someone_ has _very_ good ideas!' He rolled away from Sea'n and off the bed, feet hitting the floor just a little harder than he had intended. When he grimaced at the jar that ran through him, Sea'n set aside his own need and was quickly anxious.

'I hurt you!' he said, reaching out to Elijah.

Elijah squeezed his hand reassuringly and smiled at him. 'No – well, only a little. More tender than hurt. It fades very quickly. Too quickly when you're sure that you won't feel like that again until the next time Frideth flies.' The memory might be just a little sad but the anticipation was definitely not.

'I promise it will be a lot sooner than that,' Sea'n said solemnly, 'but right now…' He tried to tug Elijah back to him, but he was having none of it and pulled hard until Sea'n had no option but to get up from the bed.

'Come with me, O Bronze-rider Sea'n of the Iron Self Control!' he said, managing quite easily to sound imperious despite being naked and more than a little disheveled, himself. 'It is _my_ turn to have my long, slow way with _you_. I am going to bathe you - and then…' he flickered his tongue once more for the pleasure of hearing Sea'n's half groan, half laugh, as he allowed himself to be led away, '_…then_ we shall see just how long that control may last!'

Once in the bathing room, Elijah felt for a moment suddenly and ridiculously shy, for Sea'n's eyes were on him, intent and focused. The last time he had bathed with anyone else it had been all rough and tumble squealing, with his brothers, and they had paid no attention whatever to each other's bodies barring tickle spots – oh! and _there_ was a thought to keep against another day…

But Sea'n wanted him now – of that there could be no doubt at all as he stepped carefully into the bathing pool. He held out his hand again, but Elijah smiled and pushed him onto the ledge for sitting to wash before the plunge to deeper water. Then, he climbed in and knelt high before Sea'n, simply to stare at him a moment as he had on that other day when Sea'n had lain before him in the bath like this – warm and golden, spread here for his looking. No, not like this, for Sea'n was watching him now, his desire made plain - thrusting forth from the water, dark and proud and naked as Elijah had never seen before.

'Don't stop,' Sea'n said, the hoarseness of his voice equal parts laughter and desire as he added, 'even if Meretin comes rushing in with half the Weyr at his back, this time!'

Elijah snickered, sliding a careful finger up the inside of one bare thigh, for the pleasure of seeing Sea'n's gasp measured in the sudden twitch against his belly.

'I wanted you so much that day! You must have known – those infernal trousers couldn't have been hiding it!'

'Oh, yes, I knew you needed _some_one – but I thought it was because of what Crista did, and almost any rider could have met the need, except that you did not mate boys – _ever_.'

Sea'n shook his head. 'It was you I wanted – then and now and always.'

Elijah's breath caught at the simple honesty of his words and he swallowed hard. But when Sea'n grabbed for him, he eeled backward, giggling at the slick slide of hands over wet skin. 'Oh, no, Bronze-rider - not yet, not yet by a long way! Keep your fingers to yourself!'

Sea'n eyed him speculatively for a moment, then grinned, reaching as though to take himself in hand.

Elijah tapped him smartly on the knee. 'And not like that!'

His laughing pout was blatant as any rejected green-rider's, but Sea'n obediently dropped his hands. Elijah came forward again and began to ladle water over him, glow-light sparkling from every droplet, to the rise and fall of Sea'n's quickened breathing; glinting gold from the green-brown of eyes that followed Elijah's every move.

Scooping a good handful of sweetsand from the jar, Elijah worked it to a thick lather between his hands and daubed the mass of bubbles over Sea'n's chest. He spread them widely, swirling hair into frothy circles over nipples that pebbled high and taut beneath possessive fingertips, gazing at Sea'n then through lowered lashes. His tongue slid out in promise of pleasure for another time, and Sea'n dragged a quick breath. Moving closer, he smoothed the creamy foam across broad shoulders, reaching behind to spread it further down Sea'n's back, firmly kneading with his thumbs – and drew a sharp breath of his own as Sea'n nuzzled at his neck in warm air and sly, damp kisses that made him shiver and proved arousal was no longer Sea'n's alone.

Water surged around him as Elijah hastily pushed back to smear the failing bubbles along Sea'n's arms, raising each from the water and massaging quickly downward until he held long and clever fingers between his own at last. He rinsed swiftly and lifted them to his open mouth with a wanton grin for their sudden jerk - but simply kissed a second promise to the palms. Sea'n groaned, and murmured something that may have been complaint were it not so soft and pleasure-filled.

Elijah ladled fresh water then, carefully clearing the sudsy traces from Sea'n's body, and Sea'n watched him, breath more uneven now, and desire simmering hotly beneath half-closed lids. Elijah could see his fists clenched beneath the water as he fought not to reach out, still honoring the unspoken lover's pledge to keep his hands from Elijah's body.

More sweetsand, and Elijah began again, this time at Sea'n's feet, lifting each in turn and stifling a laugh when Sea'n said _Ah!_ wriggling and kicking within his grasp. He massaged the lather intently up the swell of calves, spreading it more gently over the soft and tender skin behind Sea'n's knees, that made him quiver suddenly. He worked more quickly now, for the tension coiling here flowed into him, and his own renewed desire nudged forward, blind and eager, seeking relief against Sea'n. Resolutely he ignored it, smoothing his hands along the curve of muscle in strong thighs - their insides just as sensitive or maybe more, Elijah thought, from the heavy stir of flesh already roused almost past bearing.

Barely skimming over hips and belly, he stroked lightly down the crease between thigh and body - refusing as yet what Sea'n thrust at him so urgently - and then lifted his hands away completely, for still he was not done.

'Elijah, _please!_' was a real protest, control seeming almost as thin now as the last suds swishing away on the warm and constant current.

Elijah looked at Sea'n lying here before him - open and defenseless, his need for his mate undisguised, desire offered honestly – and tenderness twisted sharply in his chest. He drew a deep breath. This was so wonderfully different from that other day, when he had longed to touch and believed he must not, when he had needed to use mouth and fingers to bring Sea'n to the height of desire.

But Sea'n was almost there already, he thought, and as yet he had laid neither finger nor mouth where most he wanted them…

'Soon, now,' he promised, pushing forward through the water to settle close between Sea'n's thighs.

One last scoop of sweetsand now, worked to a quick and careful lather between his hands. He tipped the light and creamy froth into the bowl that waited, so the last hard grains could be rinsed away. What remained was gentle, sweet-scented and as silken soft as the skin to which one single grain astray may bring agony instead of the pleasure he so wanted to give.

_'Ahhh!'_

Sea'n shuddered as Elijah's fingers cradled him at last, spreading foam to gently cleanse - trying for practical and nothing more, lest he lose his chance completely now. It was swiftly done, the roiling water bearing away all trace of lovemaking and bubbles alike, and Elijah leaned forward to kiss Sea'n's lips in soft apology. Desire pooled hot and tight, low in his belly, as Sea'n dragged in another pleading breath - and there could be no more waiting, now. Not lifting his mouth, Elijah slid back and down, trailing kisses as he went - no tease at all, only a straight and honest path to what he needed as much as Sea'n.

Elijah would never before have believed he could be so desperate for the taste of another man full and solid upon his tongue. But this was not just _another man_ – this was his mate, whom he loved as Sea'n loved him, and Elijah wanted everything of him. He wanted Sea'n's strong body - to see and hear and touch in every way, wanted scent and—

_Taste…_ He'd meant to begin with kisses but with the first taste of Sea'n upon his lips, Elijah simply closed his mouth about him.

He remembered well and tried to copy Sea'n's careful shield of teeth, the way his tongue had delved and circled, circled and delved, rousing pleasure to that pitch a hand alone could never bring. And he knew that, unpracticed though he might be, he was making this good for Sea'n, for Sea'n said _Ahh!_ and _Ohh!_ and other murmured, senseless sounds that stroked Elijah's own arousal as surely as any touch. He hummed in glad approval, and Sea'n's eyes flew wide, darkest green sparked through with gold now, shock and appreciation at once, and so Elijah did it again – and again.

Sea'n's mouth opened, raggedly panting, and his fingers crept up at last to thread Elijah's hair as gently as desperation would allow. His hip quivered beneath Elijah's other hand as he struggled to keep from thrusting hard enough to choke, as Elijah knew _he_ might have done had Sea'n not held him firmly, lovingly down this way.

Then Elijah rippled his tongue to and fro across the feathering of veins that led all to that most sensitive place beneath the flare, where delight seemed to begin and never end when Sea'n did this for him. He flickered there, lightly, keenly, and Sea'n moaned aloud, tensing in Elijah's hold. He could not last much longer, Elijah knew, plunging his mouth suddenly down, sucking hard and, at the very last moment, slid one finger down to tease where Sea'n had—

Control shattered to splinters of liquid ecstasy as Sea'n gasped 'Elijah!' tightly and his body leapt forward one last time, stuttering jaggedly into the agony of bliss on another, wordless cry.

Elijah watched, throat constricted by the wild roil of emotions that made up his love for his mate in this moment, and he smiled and rose up to gently kiss him.

'You wore me out!' Sea'n said weakly, when he could, though the strength of his arms as he pulled Elijah into them gave the lie to that.

'I—It was good?' Elijah asked uncertainly, the unspoken comparison nudging at his mind. 'I never have, except with you.'

'Good?' Sea'n's disbelief was clear, even as he tried for a steady breath. 'It was more than good – it was—it was _you_…' He dropped a reassuring kiss into Elijah's hair. 'And you think _I_ had ever done that, before we mated?'

'You're just naturally talented.' Elijah grinned and then, brushing his lips to Sea'n's chest, he confided, 'I meant… I never had, _at all_, except with you.'

'What about the girls?' The question had a definite edge to it, Elijah thought.

'Girls?'

'You told me _you _liked girls!' was mildly accusatory.

'I told you I'd only been with girls.'

'Been with?'

Now, that was definitely quite sharp - _a touch of jealousy?_ Elijah wondered hopefully. 'I meant I'd only kissed and… you know…'

'No,' Sea'n invited guilelessly, 'tell me?'

'The courteous rider _never_ tells,' Elijah quoted, batting his lashes. He snorted a laugh to Sea'n's skin as he remembered N'clas solemnly pronouncing the words.

He intoned them during one of the early classes in which young weyrlings, inexperienced in more things than dragon lore, first understood the implications of their dragons mating. None of the green-riders, boy or girl, seemed to feel the same when Elijah froze to hear N'clas confirm the theory he had already begun to suspect - by whom _he_ must be mated; even then, his mind held out a wild hope that he need never experience the practice. Eventually he'd snatched comfort from the thought that he need only ever be _taken_ twice a turn at most, and hoped that he might bear it for Frideth's sake. Over time, he'd come to believe that it may be once only, since queens were rising less often now than past records showed - and now he could actually regret that, knowing that each flight would only add to the ecstasy Sea'n brought to him when they made love.

Strange and wonderful to have reversed his hope – to be lying here with the taste of Sea'n in his mouth and a desperate hope that soon… He huffed another laugh, half kiss, against Sea'n's chest, and Sea'n looked down at him with so much tenderness that his breath caught. Hope sharpened instantly to demand.

'Sea'n - touch me, _please!_'

'Come here, then!' He turned Elijah to sit between his legs, skin slipping easily against skin. 'Mmm,' he said. 'This, I like!'

He reached to take Elijah in hand and Elijah let his head fall back onto Sea'n's shoulder, turning to briefly nuzzle at him. But this time he wanted to see that broad hand curl around him, working Elijah as he would himself; to watch the fingers of the other - so sensitive, for all their size - toy with him, seeking all the places that Sea'n knew already would curb his breath to this thin whistle through clenched teeth, that jerked and hissed with every touch. And all the time Sea'n's own mouth was busy, suckling love in nips and kisses to Elijah's neck, his shoulder, to wherever it could reach.

Then Sea'n brought his thumb into play, collecting the moisture that leaked so freely now, swiping it to and fro in a caress that was as rough as it was exquisite. While Elijah was preoccupied with that, with the pleasure winding him so fast and tight within Sea'n's palm, the other hand slipped stealthily down through the water to spread wide beneath his bottom. It was a fondling that would have made him laugh had he only thought of it, had Sea'n never done it for him. But in the doing, it made him shiver, the way it claimed by merely asking, making Elijah want to be claimed before he knew he had already assented. The shiver rippled through him, melding love to sharp desire as a single finger traced the cleft between his cheeks, teasing and stroking though never quite pushing inward; a promise for another day – or night. But Sea'n's finger slid further down, then, somehow knowing just where and how to press from outside and still to loose the shocking sensation that caromed through his whole body and set him spurting into the water through Sea'n's firm grasp.

Sea'n slid his hands around Elijah's waist, and buried his face in the crook of his neck, tongue warm and apologetic on the deeper kiss whose bite Elijah had not felt 'til now.

'Now I'm the one who is worn out!' Elijah said eventually, with a satisfied grin.

'Nonsense!' Sea'n said, 'You're young – you'll be up and doing again in no time – as it were!'

Elijah turned to stare hard at him, smothering another grin. 'Well, now that you mention it…' He reached with grabby hands, laughing aloud when Sea'n hastily jerked away and water splashed wildly over the bath sides.

'_You_ are trying to kill me!' Sea'n said, gathering him into his arms again and kissing him to take the sting from his words. They slid together from the ledge into deeper water, Elijah settling against Sea'n, head on his shoulder. It would be so easy to lie here longer, drifting on the quiet gurgle that swirled ceaselessly around them, warm and soothing.

But Elijah began to worry now, for it was unheard of that Frideth should be so heavily asleep still, so very long after he was awake. He missed her voice within his mind as he had missed her soft mental touch in the moment of ecstasy.

_Sammath?_

Elijah?

Sammath, why is Frideth still sleeping?

Do not wake her, the bronze said, his voice fond but with a slightly stern edge. _She will be hungry enough to waken, soon enough. It is tiring work to lay so many! _

Sammath, are they…?

They are good eggs, all of them, Sammath told him, reassuringly.

_How—_ Elijah almost asked before he remembered that dragons did not count.

Very _many!_ held more than a hint of pride. _Pern will need such fine dragons as they shall hatch!_

Elijah smiled and wriggled upward to kiss Sea'n. 'I love you,' he said, 'but we are beginning to wrinkle like a pair of sun-dried grapes!'

'And you need to be with Frideth when she wakens,' Sea'n said, understanding perfectly.

'The bath will still be here,' Elijah observed, hopping nimbly out to wrap himself in a towel and handing one to Sea'n.

'Which is very lucky for us!' Sea'n dropped a kiss onto one bare shoulder and hurried off to get dressed before Elijah could detain them further.

They were almost ready to leave, and Sea'n had taken down the riding strap, stowing it with the rest of the harness leathers, when a familiar pair of weyrlings arrived, panting.

'I came all the way up here to tell you about more eggs last night, and you'd hung out a strap!' K'ris said accusingly from just beyond the curtain.

Elijah stepped onto the stairs and thanked them. He apologized for the wasted visit, his grin barely visible in the waning light from the nearest glowbasket (and were Candessa to see that, the drudge on replacement duty would catch the sharp edge of her tongue!) Sea'n did laugh as he brought out Meretin's tray, with its uneaten largesse - though without the wine (or other things for which they still had a definite use).

'Here,' he said. 'This may make up for it!'

They accepted it with thanks and glee, V'diren juggling the tray so he could pocket some of the hard fruits, then biting into one of the pastries that K'ris had dived for from the first.

'There were thirty-two before N'clas made us go to bed,' K'ris complained thickly, in a small spray of crumbs, 'and now none of us has _any_ idea how many there are, only a _lot_ more than last night!'

'So, are you coming to count them now, Elijah?' V'diren asked, angling a free hand to bat his friend lightly on the head.

'Not until Frideth wakes. Sammath said not to disturb her.'

A swipe, a swallow, and the next questions were clean and clear - V'diren's warning had been heeded. 'Sammath _told_ you? Like Frideth spoke to Sea'n?'

Elijah nodded. K'ris was obviously quite impressed by his ability to hear Sammath, but completely awed that a queen dragon would speak to a bronze-rider.

'Can you hear Conireth or Geneth? Or Romiroth?' To V'diren, these were the three most important dragons at Telgar: senior queen, bronze leader – and his own beloved bronze.

'Or Helisth?' His green was K'ris's choice for most important, of course.

'No, only Frideth and Sammath,' Elijah said. 'Any more and my head would be buzzing all the time!' Sea'n nodded agreement.

The two boys considered that and seemed to think it reasonable. Elijah thanked them again and promised to call them when he went to see Frideth. K'ris scampered off down the steps to the real breakfast that awaited them, V'diren's following pace hampered only slightly by the now almost empty tray. Their voices, though, echoed clearly up to Elijah and Sea'n as K'ris returned to his complaint.

'Why would they hang up a strap when Frideth was laying? You'd think they didn't _want_ to know how many eggs there were!'

'You don't know?' V'diren's voice was sly. They had Impressed from the same clutch, but he was older and sounded much more knowing than his friend.

'Well _obviously_ because they wanted to sleep in peace!' K'ris' tone said that even an idiot could work that out.

'To sleep. _Really_?'

'What? Oh! _Ohh_!' K'ris sniggered with all the innocence of his thirteen turns. 'I forget that Elijah must be Sea'n's mate like that, too!'

Higher up the stair, Sea'n looked at Elijah, laughed at his blush and took his hand. 'Definitely _like that_,' he said, 'and I don't care who knows it!'

Elijah squeezed his fingers cheerfully. 'Nor do I,' he said. 'It's just – K'ris is so young. And he's…' He paused. Perhaps his true weyrmating made him realize what K'ris was - and what that must mean for him in the future.

Sea'n understood his sudden concern. 'Helisth is a green, and K'ris is nothing like you, Elijah. I've seen a lot of lads Impress, and K'ris really _is_ a green-rider, though it may be several turns yet before he understands that in himself. I suspect that V'diren will take care of him - that one day they may be more than friends. Green-bronze weyrmating between males isn't usual, but it happens, and a stable pairing of any color is good for the Weyr.'

Elijah knew that the best Weyrleader was one who understood his riders – which as far as he was concerned should make Sea'n the best of the best - and perhaps he could explain… He stopped right there on the steps and asked quietly, 'Why am I different, Sea'n?'

Sea'n grinned and waggled his eyebrows, but when he opened his mouth to reply, Elijah put his hand over it.

'No,' he said, 'I'm serious.'

Sea'n nodded. He thought for a moment and then said, 'I think only Frideth could give a true answer to that – if even _she_ knows.'

'No, I mean, how can _you_ tell? What makes K'ris a green-rider but not me? Both our dragons are female, so shouldn't we be more than a little alike?'

'With so many male dragons in the Weyr to just a handful of queens, only the best of the bronzes ever have hope of flying a gold - especially if a weyrmating is desired by their riders,' Sea'n added with a possessive smile. 'Presumably that's why the greens rise so often - to mate with all the other males. And so, inevitably, each green-rider must accept being mated by many different men. I believe that at Impression the hatchling finds something in the candidate she chooses that will make that possible. Between then and her first rising, she somehow shapes their minds together so that her rider not only _can_ do that but wants to – perhaps even _needs_ to. And it shows in the rider – increasingly as he or she matures. You know how flirtatious they can be!'

Elijah wrinkled his nose then, thinking of the many enticing and - now, more than ever - completely wasted glances that came Sea'n's way.

'Sammath has taught me to recognize that, when we go on Search: the first tiny spark of _something_ in even the most unlikely of young people and before ever they come to Impress. Weyrwomen don't have it, of course - perhaps because queens don't rise so often, or maybe because they do tend to weyrmate - I don't know. You don't have it, either – not at all. When we met that first morning I knew you were a rider - probably bronze, I thought, but definitely not green. And it never occurred to me that you could be who you are. I—'

Elijah looked questioningly as Sea'n hesitated. 'Tell me!' he demanded.

'I expected _Elijah_ to have that same quality in him - perhaps even more so under Frideth's influence. But there is nothing even slightly promiscuous about you, and no more of Frideth in you than of Sammath in me. Somehow, you have remained your own man even though you and she are as close as any other rider with her queen, maybe closer. And, Elijah? I love that in you.'

Elijah swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and squeezed Sea'n's hand tightly in his, tugging him down the stairway at last, and hoping that some breakfast may have been kept for them.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

 

As they emerged into the caverns, there seemed to be a good many more riders than usual still at table. Most had finished eating and were left with only a mug of klah and an air of studied disinterest. There must be a great many marks riding on the count of Frideth's clutch, Sea'n decided. He noted more than a few nods and nudges, and was unsurprised. Beside him, Elijah was almost glowing with happiness; Frideth's generous and successful clutch _might_ be the sole reason - but Sea'n could not be the only one to know that it was not. His own satisfaction probably would not go unnoticed, either, which simply broadened his smile.

Meretin was watching them approach, and Sea'n was conscious of a searching look before a quick nod of approval.

'Good morning,' the healer said as they took seats by him. 'Is all well with Frideth? She was asleep when I peeped at her but she appears to have been very productive, overnight!'

'She's _still_ sleeping. Sammath says she needs to, and that I'm not to waken her until she's ready. Also, that she'll be hungry from all that effort when she does!' Elijah laughed and stirred sweetener generously into the cereal that Marinis set before him with a smile.

'It looks as if she's not the only one…' Sea'n said blandly.

Elijah grinned at him, tapped the back of Sea'n's hand with his sticky spoon and went on eating.

Sea'n deliberately didn't look at him as he swept his tongue over the mess in very visible licks, but he heard Elijah's breath draw in a little more sharply, and allowed himself the hint of a smirk as he attacked his own serving with equal appetite. 'Thank you for sending up the wine and so on,' he said then, with just the faintest emphasis on the last words.

'It was my pleasure,' Meretin smiled into his klah.

'No,' Sea'n said, unable to resist, 'it was mine! _Ours_!' he amended hastily as Elijah's heel landed lightly on his instep.

'You know, Elijah,' F'mir slid, klah in hand, onto the seat opposite, 'I've never seen a queen as ripe with eggs as Frideth. Do you know how many there may be?' The table filled rapidly around them as other riders heard the question, drifting over to join them, all eager for news of the clutch.

'I've no more idea than you, as yet - Sammath forbade me to disturb her until she wakes from hunger! I did try to count all the bumps while they were still inside but they sort of slithered away every time - almost as if they were doing it on purpose.' Elijah laughed. 'Now I've heard and _felt_ the life in them, I'm beginning to think it was a kind of game for them to make sure I never got much past ten!'

'She'd laid three times that last night, and there look to be a good few more now,' Pr'len pointed out. 'Conireth's clutch, that Frideth came from—' he paused at F'mir's glare and added placatingly, 'that Frideth _and Maruth _came from - was the biggest we've had in a while. Twenty-three eggs – and she didn't look to be half as—as _bulgy_ as Frideth!'

Sea'n watched Elijah cover his hopes for the biggest clutch that Telgar had ever known under an _almost_ modest smile.

'She certainly gave new meaning to the term egg-heavy!' Elijah agreed lightly. He wrinkled his nose at Sea'n's amused grin, and Sea'n swallowed hastily, realized that Pr'len had a knowing eye upon them, and went quickly back to his oatmeal.

T'lekan frowned, then. 'I can't remember the last time any of our queens laid as many as twenty eggs – can you, J'reny?'

J'reny, a Benden wing-second, screwed up his face in thought and hazarded a guess. 'Milarth? She had twenty – that was two turns ago, wasn't it?'

'Nearer four,' T'lekan said.

'Numbers have always fallen after the big clutches before and through the early turns of a Pass,' Sea'n began, as Elijah spread butter thickly on a well-browned slice of bread.

He caught Elijah looking at him - slyly, through a quick flutter of lashes, and barely there before it was gone - and instantly he remembered butter that ran from toast still steaming from the fire. He watched Elijah's supple fingers curl around this cooler piece, sharp white teeth biting with relish into the layers of dark purple sweeting and golden butter, tongue just peeping out to collect an errant crumb or two. And he remembered butter glistening down those fingers and a lithe pink tongue that chased out and around to catch it. He remembered too – no wishful thinking now but a tantalizing memory – where _else_ that talented tongue, those deft fingers had—

Pr'len nudged him then, for Sea'n had paused with mouth open, completely forgetting what he'd been about to say. He blinked, Pr'len sniggered and Elijah looked up, all innocence, to raise his mug with Darial, who was waving her klah aloft and proposing, 'Our youngest Queen!' as she wriggled onto the bench next to F'mir.

The sound of clinking swept along the table and the question of clutch size was lost for the time being, at least. Elijah set down his mug and was suddenly thoughtful.

'What is it?' Sea'n asked quickly.

'Darial means Frideth's daughter – _counting dragons before they're hatched_!' He gave her a friendly scowl. 'But right now, _Frideth_ is the youngest queen, not just here at Telgar but anywhere on Pern. And most of the queens are actually pre-Pass. Can you think of another as young?'

Sea'n ran quickly through the tally of Pern's queens. 'Quelith, at High Reaches? When was she hatched?'

'Before Frideth, though not by much,' Elijah said. 'I remember being completely adrift in the first queens' meeting that Cleya and I both attended, and—' he bit his lip at the awkward recollection, '—and thinking how unfair it was that she fit right in and I stuck out like a watchwher at a hatching.'

'Of course,' Sea'n said, 'I'd forgotten Quelith's arrival. They were down to only three breeding queens, the last was so many turns before. There was even talk of a hatchling queen being donated by one of the other Weyrs, though the Skies knew queen eggs had been rare enough everywhere. The celebrating went on for days when they got their own at last!'

'How many turns?'

'Twenty, twenty five? Something like that. And when Frideth hatched there was excuse for a double celebration all across Pern. Telgar's last before her must have been—'

'Belteth – I know. Five turns into the Pass, and just after Ralenth went into _between_ with Zeta. When was Igen's?'

'Jacela's Calaranth, from the same clutch as Sammath – so, twelve, nearly thirteen turns ago.' Sea'n's dragon gently touched his mind, then, with the joy of the incredible experience they'd shared, and Sea'n smiled as he saw it spread to Elijah too.

'Ours was Choriath,' T'lekan offered. 'Sixteen turns, come Turnover – that was a double celebration, too! And Brenth flew her, two flights ago!' His pride in his bronze's prowess was clear, but then his expression drooped as he admitted, 'Tyela did not ask to weyrmate, though, then or since.' He sighed. 'It wasn't a bad clutch, either. Fifteen would be _very_ good at Benden, these days - and not one of them failed.'

'You were lucky,' J'reny said. 'That's the worst thing, when you have to take them into between.'

'Have you had to do that, Sea'n?' Elijah asked quietly.

'Three times - two from Allibeth's last clutch.' He watched Elijah's happiness dim a little; he had laid aside his fear that any of Frideth's clutch may fail, but his sorrow for a bereft queen and her rider was plain to see, beyond the unobtrusive touch of comfort to Sea'n's hand.

'It's happening in other Weyrs, too,' F'mir said sadly. 'At least, it is at High Reaches - I know because I delivered a score to the harper there, from Carlen. It was not long after Frideth flew, and a bad time to visit. S'rey and Cadreth were just leaving - they had four of Lianth's to take, and she'd only laid eleven to begin with.'

Such failures would be mourned only within the Weyr, since the dragonets had never lived, but the loss was as real, for every failed egg was a dragon less to fly against Thread.

There was silence at the table for several minutes, noticeable amid the general hum of chatter all around them.

'With smaller clutches and eggs that fail,' Pr'len suddenly blurted the terrible possibility that all of them were quietly thinking, 'are the Weyrs even managing to replace fallen riders and those who can no longer fight?'

'I've no exact figures, but I would wager a deal on the fact that Benden has not, over recent turns,' T'lekan said heavily.

In his head, Sea'n tallied the hatchings at Igen through his turns as Weyrleader, and set against that total the riders whom he had retired, and those who had died. 'At Igen - just barely,' he said, 'and mostly because the large hatchings of the past gave us by far the better part of the fighting dragons we have now. They - and we - are too far from the end of the Pass to cope, if clutches continue to diminish and fail.'

'The same has been true here, until Frideth laid,' Elijah said slowly. 'And when I looked into the rising of our queens, it was obvious that they aren't mating as often, either, but I didn't—' He stopped, coloring faintly under Sea'n's gaze, and Sea'n knew his interest had been dread, at first, of the matings to which he must submit, and then, like Sea'n's, eagerness for Frideth to rise again. 'I knew in a way what was happening but I didn't really think about it clearly enough.'

'So what we are saying,' Meretin had been listening in silence, but now he cut sharply into the conversation, 'is that, since Frideth hatched, clutches have dwindled and eggs have proved unviable. And yet, on her maiden flight Frideth herself flew higher and further than any - and her clutch is at least twice the number any other queen has laid in turns.'

'And what marked Frideth out from any other queen, even before that,' Sea'n said, quickly catching his meaning, 'was that she chose Elijah and not a girl!'

'Hmmm.' Meretin thought for a moment. 'Tell me,' he said to T'lekan, 'are the weyrwomen of Benden behaving like proddy green-riders?'

T'lekan glanced uneasily at Elijah, who took his thought and waved him on, encouragingly. 'We need to know,' he said. 'If such a thing is happening, it is a fact and we need the truth of it.'

Sea'n remembered the hurt that his accusation of Crista had brought to both of them. Elijah looked at him, then, and they smiled ruefully at each other.

'Well, I wouldn't exactly say _proddy_,' T'lekan began cautiously.

'Oh, now, _really_!' J'reny interrupted. 'You know very well that Tyela has been impossible for many a sevenday past, and Carilan is no better.'

'Marenna nearly bit my head off for nothing, yet _again_ the other day!' One of the younger Benden riders put in, obviously still rankled by the injustice.

'But _our_ weyrwomen aren't—' Elijah began, and then stopped as he caught the glance that passed among the Telgar riders present, particularly those of green or blue.

'You wouldn't notice as we do, Elijah,' Darial said, blushing to put herself forward so boldly, but determined to speak out. 'Nor you, Meretin, but they have been quite snappish with us, for a while. We—' she circled her hand to include the others, and Sea'n saw many nodding agreement even before she finished, '—we bear the brunt of it, not you. It's a green-rider jest that even a weyrwoman may be every bit as proddy as one of us - but we thought it _was_ only in jest. _You're_ never like that, though!' she added hastily, clearly not wanting Elijah to think she was including him; the nods at that were even more emphatic.

'And Narenis isn't, either!' F'mir put in immediately. The former Weyrwoman was grayer than her queen's muzzle, now; often acerbic but with a gentle humor that made her advice as palatable as it was practical, she had become confidante to many of the younger riders who missed their own grandams.

'Ah, now, that _is_ interesting,' Meretin said. 'Both she and Sinitroth are beyond breeding age… Hmm.' He steepled his fingers, frowning in thought.

Sea'n looked around to see where the Telgar weyrwomen may be, realizing suddenly that not one of them had as yet come to Elijah with congratulation, or even comment, on Frideth's clutch. Narenis was nowhere to be seen, but she often slept late and breakfasted in her weyr. At the far side of the cavern, Riana and Jendria sat silently together, a discontented air about them; Riana the sourer looking of the two, Sea'n thought, probably because her mate was too far away at Benden to be of any comfort. K'vret and Lenara were close by, deep in serious conversation; its subject was plain from the occasional glance that came Elijah's way.

'They don't look best pleased,' Darial said, following the direction of his gaze. Her bland comment managed to convey a distinct warning to her fellow riders, Sea'n thought.

'So,' he turned back to Meretin, 'you think something in the weyrwomen is turning them proddy and somehow affecting the ability of the breeding queens to lay full clutches?'

'Either that, or something within the queens is disrupting their mating cycles and damaging clutches – and _that_ is affecting their riders, making them appear proddy when that is one thing from which they should never suffer.'

'And Frideth and I are _both_ seemingly immune because…?' Elijah raised his eyes to Sea'n's as he waited for Meretin to confirm what they both knew already.

'_Because_ you are male, Elijah. I think it may be at least a part of your answer to why Frideth chose you.'

An answer of sorts perhaps, Sea'n thought, but still one that rested too much on chance not to have been destined on a level far beyond chance.

'You think that Frideth _knew_ – that she knew _as a hatchling_ \- that our queens would be afflicted this way, three turns into the future? And that I _wouldn't_ be?'

'How is it that queens know a Pass is approaching, so that they begin to lay larger clutches against the need – and, indeed, smaller ones when the need is past? Why do some dragons have the ability to Search candidates who are sure to Impress, where others bring many who never will?' Meretin challenged Sea'n then, with a raised eyebrow. 'How may a bronze foresee the rising of his queen from half a world away?'

Sea'n shook his head. 'Sammath has always known some things that lie beyond sight or knowledge,' he said. 'I have no explanation, only my trust in him.'

'Frideth had need of you, Elijah, as Sammath needed Frideth. I think that we begin to learn just what that need may be.'

Sea'n caught Meretin's eye then, and saw his own, nearer concern crease a worry to his forehead; he too was remembering how Crista's jealousy had caused harm to each of them. She may have had reason beyond the envy of a spectacular clutch, but if Telgar weyrwomen may become as volatile as she, then Sea'n would take no chances. He would keep as close a guard on his mate as he could – as close as Elijah would permit. He nodded reassurance to Meretin, who answered with a lift of his mug, entrusting Elijah's safety fully to him.

The healer drained the last of his klah and stood, squaring his shoulders, 'Well,' he said, 'I believe it may be time to share our conjecture.' He drew a deep breath and crossed to where K'vret and Lenara were sitting.

'Rather him than me!' Pr'len said, watching avidly.

Sea'n silently seconded that. As yet, the healer could offer neither comfort nor explanation, only pose to Weyrleader and Weyrwoman a serious problem that was probably Pern-wide. Sea'n was as worried as any, but he would not allow it to spoil this special day for Elijah – when he and Frideth may even have shown the path to a solution. It would wait.

Heads all along the table had swiveled to follow Meretin, but Sea'n turned now to see Elijah's face take a sudden inward look.

'Frideth?'

'Yes – she's waking!' His smile then was pure joy at hearing his queen again – unused to so many hours without her voice inside his head, Sea'n realized, no matter how lovingly those hours might have been spent. He was conscious, not of jealousy, for jealousy of Elijah's queen would be futile, but that he must share Elijah always, as Frideth must share with him.

_Come and see!_ she said. Sea'n had not much experience of her mental tone, but she sounded tired still, he thought; tired, but pleased and full of accomplishment. And hungry, as Sammath had foretold.

_A wherry will suffice until you have seen the eggs_, the bronze said. _ Then I shall try if she has room yet for a herdbeast!_

Elijah laughed aloud, at that, and finished his toast hurriedly, the deliberate swipe of tongue over sticky fingers less tantalizing than it might have been, as Frideth called again.

When they stood to leave, the entire table rose with them, riders all across the cavern preparing to follow them, a murmur from the direction of the weyrling table voicing the quiet thought that it was _about time too_. There was quite a crowd behind them to spill out onto the Sands – a measure of just how many marks had been staked on the final tally of eggs, Sea'n suspected with a grin.

'I think myself very fortunate, you know,' he said, quietly but with a definite hint of mischief as they entered.

Elijah half turned to him. 'Because?'

'Because, unlike K'vret or A'sren, _I_ don't have to live with a proddy weyrmate!'

Immediately Elijah put on a cross face and mock-snarled at him, and Sea'n started back in pretend alarm. Then, realizing how many riders were watching with interest, each of them tried for a dignified air, failed, and laughed instead. Sea'n caught Elijah's hand in his and they crossed together to where Frideth waited just a little apart from her clutch. The evidence of feathers and the attention she was paying to cleaning her claws said that Sammath had indeed been busy on her behalf already.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

 

Elijah felt a little guilty that his first thought at sight of Frideth was not for her eggs but that she was almost her own shape again, and that soon they would fly together once more. He'd missed it so much, the joy of flying. He'd missed the speed and grace and freedom she shared with him, the catching of each separate current – warm to soar up ever higher, dropping then to cooler air and swooping low; skimming meadow, moor or mountain top with ease and certainty.

But the supple skin across her belly was soft and loose now after so generous a clutch, and perhaps, like a human mother, she would need time to build up strength before they could properly take to the air. The muscles for flight, though, were strong in chest and shoulders, so maybe… He heard Sammath's amusement, then.

_Frideth is as eager to fly as you, but she will go no farther than the feeding ground as yet. She will not leave our young until they hatch unless it is truly necessary. _ The rebuke was gentle, a fond indulgence of his eagerness, and Elijah grinned in quick apology.

_Goodness - your nest is only just big enough!_ he said as he reached it, unprepared for the humps and bumps his fingers had known so well to be laid before him in this widely undulated spread. Their subtle splashes, swirls and almost-patterns all circled outward from a center that gleamed softly, large and golden. Sammath's wide tail-scrape had indeed proved barely sufficient.

_Many eggs are a blessing no matter how small the nest_, Frideth replied sententiously, as she lowered her muzzle to his greeting caress. It was so much like Mother's pronouncement at another mouth to feed in one of the already over-crowded stone cots that Elijah had to laugh, shaking his head when Sea'n looked quizzically at him.

_A blessing indeed!_ Elijah hugged himself against her, and turned to begin the count. He lost track several times - perhaps because he took as his reference point Sea'n, who stood absently scratching one of Sammath's head knobs and obviously also attempting to number so large a brood.

If Frideth had not exceeded the record, her clutch was far beyond merely _respectable_, and he still had hope that she might do so. But exactly how many she had laid was unimportant, except to those with marks staked upon the total. What mattered was that there _were_ many, and if what they had been thinking was true, that Telgar was barely able to replace—

He ceased his reckoning abruptly, as he remembered Sammath's words to him.

_Pern will need such dragons as they shall hatch._

Pern. Not Telgar, _Pern_.

He turned back to share the thought with Sea'n and ask Sammath what he had meant by that - and stopped, surprised and delighted. Sea'n was no longer even trying to count. With one hand he was still scratching a spot above Sammath's eye-ridges, but now he extended the other tentatively as Frideth angled down her great head, inviting a similar touch.

Sea'n looked at him and happiness welled up inside Elijah then, tightening his throat and prickling at his eyes. His worry dissolved before the tenderness in Sea'n's smile. He knew that, whatever need the great bronze dragon had foreseen for Pern, the four of them would meet it together, strong and secure in the love of life- and weyrmate.

**The End**

 

**A/N The Very Last**: (for those who really _need_ to know) Fifty-three.

~~~~\~~~/~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. There is a very short follow up tale called _Wicked_ also posted here, but the novel-length sequel will begin posting on [S/EER's Live Journal](http://se-seerslair.livejournal.com/) later this year


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